


A Wish Your Heart Makes

by deanvspanties



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU from season 8, Actor Verse, Amnesia, Amnesiac Jensen Ackles, Anal, Angst, Bottom Dean, Bottom Jensen, Character Bleed, Cockles, Dean!Jensen, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Extreme, Grinding, Helplessness, Infidelity, It looks and smells like a Supernatural/Actor Verse crossover but it's not, M/M, Mental Instability, Mind Fuck, Paranoia, Suicidal Thoughts, dear god the angst, fuck how do i even tag this shit, if that makes any sense at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanvspanties/pseuds/deanvspanties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets hurt on a hunt and wakes up from a coma as Jensen Ackles. Only, this time around, Actor verse is real life and his life as Dean was just a dream. Dean struggles to remember his life as Jensen with the help of Misha and Jared. It doesn't help that he was on the verge of confessing his love to Castiel before it all happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi this is a repost from ff.net and with this story it's official: AO3 is my main posting site. Please show your love for this story and let me know what you think of it. It has the tendency to be a little dark at times, (and poor Dean) but it WILL have a happy ending. I promise.
> 
> I'm taking some creative liberties with the Actors and their lives and all the actory things they do, but I have done a lot of research too. I'll try to make it as realistic as possible.

Do you ever wonder if time is just mocking you? Like perhaps in another life you did something so  _heinous_ that it's taking an entire lifetime to repent for that? All of the tears, sweat and blood you put into your existence is crafted by the bitch goddess karma and you're sitting back and taking her for a ride.

Dean often wondered if perhaps that's the reason for the cards he was dealt with. It seemed likely that in another life he was some serial killer or child-rapist and his punishment was the entire weight of the world literally on his shoulders.

They were in a bad position. Sam, Dean and Cas found themselves at the heart of a giant vampire nest, there was no safe way out and they were so swarmed that even Castiel was having a hard time getting the upper-hand. Sam was missing, him having drawn the pack away from them so that they could regroup. Castiel looked at Dean in concern as they hid behind the damp stairwell, watching as the blood dripped down his face. Dean wasn't bitten, but he was messed up pretty badly. The amount of worry in Castiel's eyes had the hunter feeling uncomfortable, but he resigned enough to let Cas heal him. He spoke softly after Dean was back in shape, taking taking face in his soft hands.

"Your cuts are gone, but you'll still have bruises. I'm low on Grace so I can't heal you completely." Dean simply rolled my eyes.

"I think I can handle a few bruises." He said, petulantly, embarrassed by the angel's concern. Cas wasn't backing away. He was standing so close to Dean—Castiel was  _always_  standing just a little too close. His blue eyes always lingered on Dean's just a little too long. His hands didn't leave Dean's face either. There was an intensity in his eyes that the Winchester was growing all too familiar with.

"Please be more careful next time, okay?" Cas paused before pressing an incensed kiss to Dean's lips, making his heartbeat do double time. The hunter pulled away, blush on his face obscured by the darkness.

"Y-Yeah whatever," Dean shook the fog that his kiss left from his head and readied his knife, needing so bad to chop a bloodsucker's head off to get rid of the tingles running up and down his spine.

Ever since that night in Kansas City a few months back; The night they first had sex—the night everything changed, Cas had taken advantage of his kissing privileges. Sometimes, if there were a moment in which they were alone, they'd have sex; Hot, fiery, gay sex. They didn't really talk about it—Dean imagined Sam had his suspicions, but it was never really brought to light. That was, admittedly, Dean's fault, since he could never seem to man up and admit he was actually super flaming for an angel of the fucking Lord.

But it all changed the night before when Cas told him he was in love with him and wanted them to be together. Dean didn't know how to react—How does one react when a dude  _angel_ tells you he wants to be your boyfriend? No, Dean did what any good Winchester did and avoided it. Pretended it didn't happen and hoped it would just go away.

Cas seemed serious though, casting Dean meaningful looks from time to time. His stares lingered even longer, kisses just a bit more zealous. He wanted an answer and how could Dean admit that yes _,_ fucking  _yes_ he loved him?

Dean realized some time after they started doing the dirty together that he'd been in love with Castiel since the moment they met, It only took him a while to see that life was better with Castiel in it. The angel was overly cute and adorkable and Dean couldn't see himself without him. But Dean could definitely see himself  _with_  him. Dean could see them waking up together, laughing, smiling, planning hunts together. He could see himself in Cas's arms every day and he could see himself through the years, being with him and never wanting more.

Even though he was an angel, Dean wouldn't mind growing old while Cas remained the same. Dean was pretty sure Cas wouldn't mind it either if his little speech was anything to go by.

Chills ran down Dean's spine as he remembered the words that were spoken to him, Cas's so voice thick with passion and emotion that he wondered if it was really Castiel saying them.

_I would fall a thousand times if it meant I could wake up and see your face every morning. I would watch you die in countless lifetimes just so I could enjoy every day you were alive. If this is love then I wear it for everybody to see. Dean Winchester I love your every flaw, I want to be with you when you make mistakes, when you achieve your goals. Your soul is damaged but it is still as beautiful as the day it came into existence. As an angel I know I have no right to be asking, and I know I'm not a human but… I want to be selfish this time. I hope beyond all hope that someday you fall in love with me too._

At the time, Dean's inner voice was screaming " _Yes! Fucking yesss!"_ While his mouth was forming some unintelligible words and he was fighting with his eyes not to start crying just then. Never in his life had anybody taken such beautiful words and applied them to  _him._  Dean fucking Winchester didn't receive love confessions, let alone pure heartfelt ones.

It wasn't like Dean didn't know he was bisexual. One did not suck dick and like it and still claim to be straight (Dean had done it three times now). Granted the initial shock of him liking dick so much threw the oldest Winchester for a loop and he was in some pretty serious denial about the whole thing for a few weeks, but he got over it after the first four times they had sex and it was becoming a regular thing. Dean understood now why gay people liked fucking so much. Dean wouldn't admit it to anyone but being on the receiving end felt hella good and he didn't know if he could give it up now.

That didn't mean Dean was ready to come out. Sam, allegedly, was still in the dark about his thing with Cas, and Dean wasn't interested in announcing it to the world any time soon.

Dean was not ready for commitment. Even with girls, Dean never let it get that far save for Lisa and Ben, and look how  _that_ turned out. Being a hunter meant that he couldn't live a cookie cutter (gay) life with scrapbooking and show tunes.

But Dean supposed he could still live a  _hunter_  gay life. . . Cas wasn't any damsel in distress and there wouldn't be any children coming into the equation anytime soon, so he had decided to give Castiel's proposal some serious thought. Could Dean really be openly gay with Cas? Could he call him his boyfriend and just. . .

Sam was going to flip-if he didn't know already. No worse, he would be all obnoxious and give Dean the most profound bitchface in the entire world. Dean always suspected Sam was rooting for them to get together. Did he really want to give Sam that kind of satisfaction?

Yes, because if he were truly honest with himself, he was in love with Castiel. He wanted to be with him and he  _wanted_ to be open with Sam about it. It wasn't going to be easy to say out loud and completely put his heterosexual life behind him, but he would.

Dean looked deeply into Castiel's eyes and smiled. He wouldn't say it now but maybe if he initiated a kiss, Cas would realize that not all hope was lost.

He leant in, prepared to give him the most heartfelt kiss in the world when suddenly his head exploded in pain and he toppled over, hitting the floor with a loud 'thud'. He looked up to see a vamp fighting with Cas, blocking the angel's advances with a bloody plank of wood. His vision started swimming in and out of focus and his world was slowly going black.

"C-Cas. . ." He croaked, choking on a mouthful of blood that suddenly came up. This wasn't good. He couldn't see anything anymore. He felt his head hit the ground and roll to the side. It was almost like he was detached from his body. His consciousness was slowly slipping and he could do nothing to stop it. Was this the end? Was he really going to die like this, killed by a vamp, not even a vamp—A fucking a plank of wood in front of his boyfriend-to be?

Apparently he had no say in the matter. His breath fell short and soon the pain was gone. He felt absolutely nothing at all.

The last thing he heard was a faraway call from the sweetest voice in the world.

_Dean!_

::

Pain.

As he became aware of his body around him, there was just so much  _pain._ Was that his head? Yeah the pain was definitely coming from there. Right where the vamp had hit him too. It was a hard enough blow to kill a man. He wondered if he was dead? Everything was dark.

Right. Eyelids.

Dean slowly, carefully squinted his eyes open and immediately regretted it. That was a whole 'nother story of pain. Okay, not dead then-Unless he was in hell? But he thought that he'd earned his way back into heaven like a good little boy. . . So maybe that wasn't the story. Maybe he really did survive that blow.

He squinted his eyes open again long enough to see very,  _very_ bright light and what looked like white walls everywhere. The only place he knew that had white walls was a hospital and it was definitely a likely place for him to be, although why Cas hadn't just mojo'd him back together he didn't know.

Well maybe he hadn't recovered his Grace enough to do so. That had to be it. Hospital was the next best thing after all.

"Look Jeremy, I don't know why you don't just tell him that he's on the road to recovery." It was a woman's voice. A woman who sounded really  _really_ annoyed. It didn't sound like she was a nurse. There was a pause before she started speaking again. She was on the phone? "No, I don't know  _when_ he'll wake up from his  _coma_  Jeremy. God, ok look I've gotta go. I haven't eaten all day so I'll talk to you later," Pause. "Mmhmm, fine, okay bye." Dean listened some more, hearing the crinkling sound of a bag opening and then soon after some soft crunching noises. He couldn't open his eyes yet, but his fingers and toes were moving. He could alert her attention but really he was a bit worried. Who was this woman and why wasn't Sam or Cas there? Who was asking about him?

He coughed, raising his hand to get her attention. Better face the music.

"Oh my god, Nurse!" Immediately he felt soft fingers wrapping around his hands, feeling her presence. So. . . Who did he knew with personal space issues? Charlie? Did he dare even think Becky?

Suddenly there were frantic footsteps and people poking and prodding him everywhere.

"Vital signs are normal, heart rate slightly increased. No fever. How are you feeling Jensen?"  _Jensen!_

"Oh hell, not this shit again. . ."

"What?" The woman from before. Did he get sent to the actor universe by an angel again? Balthazar was dead, so it would have to be a different one. Castiel? No, why would he do that? Was it to protect him? Couldn't he had zapped him to the nearest hospital in his  _own_  reality? Seriously this was getting old.

"Nothing." Dean said, playing along. It would only be a matter of time before Cas got him out and back into his own life. Then that angel had some serious explaining to do. . . and perhaps some serious fucking.

But he wouldn't get into that. . .

Dean decided that now would be a good time to open his eyes. Ignoring the blinding pain, he let his eyes focus. The first thing he saw was a gorgeous woman with dark auburn hair. She had tears in her eyes and a giant smile on her face.

"Jens. Oh Jens baby, I missed you so much!" She threw herself over him, crawling onto the bed. With the force of her hug, he felt himself go lightheaded. He laughed nervously, hugging her back. Apparently they were really close? Girlfriend? Wife? She called him baby.

"H-How long have I been out?" He didn't know her name. She wasn't there the last time he'd been thrust into this universe. He would have to do his best name-avoidance this time until he could sneak a peek at her wallet.

"Almost a week now! God, Jensen we were so worried. You started showing signs of consciousness about three days ago, but nobody was expecting you to be fully lucid so fast." Dean rubbed his head, looking around. The hospital room was huge. It was like a friggen rockstar hospital room. Giant flatscreen tv, stereo—was that a minifridge? Jensen fucking Ackles: Star of hit TV series Supernatural.  _Damn_  it paid to be famous!

"Is your throat dry, sweety? You sound like Dean," She laughed, pouring him a cup of water while the nurse did some more checks.

"It seems he has some Dysarthria. It's a common vocal condition most coma patience experience upon wake." Dean narrowed his eyes, wondering just how he was  _supposed_ to sound. He would have to do some serious youtubing later. Assuming he was still in this universe later.

He accepted the cup she offered him and took a drink, deciding to just not worry about his voice for now. He had more important things to worry about. "My uh, memory's a bit fuzzy. How did I end up here?" I don't remember anything." The nurse pulled up a seat and smiled.

"Amnesia is very common after recovering from a head-trauma. Most likely, it will clear up in a week," The woman holding his hands spoke next.

"You were leaving the office and ended up tripping and knocking yourself out on the stairsl. There was a lot of blood and then you didn't wake up. . ." Dean rubbed at his head wound gingerly, and winced feeling a lot of pain from that area.

"I sure know how to screw up, don't I?"

"You  _are_ pretty good at it,"

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, let me know if you can't remember, okay? Please be honest." Dean nodded, a bit nervous. He could definitely use this as an excuse not to remember anything.

"What is your name?"

"Jensen Ackles," He answered instantly. He couldn't very well answer Dean Winchester, or they might relocate him to a very  _different_  section of the hospital. Better stick with mild amnesia.

"How old are you?" Dean decided the truth would be best in this case. He  _looked_ his age at least.

"3-35?"

"36."

"Right. . ."

"Who is this lovely lady?" She gestured to the woman beside him and he bit his lip. Well. . . It wasn't _his_ fault he had amnesia.

"M-My girlfriend." He was careful to state, rather than ask.

"Good. Her name?" Dean bit his lip and looked away.

"I-I don't remember," He snuck a peak at her fallen expression and he could see the hurt on her face and he felt really  _really_ bad. There's nothing worse than your boyfriend not remembering you. She shook her head and steeled her face into a sad smile.

"I-I'm Danneel. Danneel Harris. If you don't remember, Jensen it's okay. You'll remember soon, I know it." He smiled at her. Well she was nice enough.

"H-How long have we been together?"

"About 6 years, baby," Holy shit!

"And where am I?"

"St. Paul's hospital in Vancouver." Freakin' Canada. This shit was so weird. Suddenly the door burst open, a woman storming her way in, bogged down with shopping bags.

He knew that face. . .

- _Ruby._ Or rather Genevieve Padalecki.

Married to my  _brother._

Well Jared Padalecki. . .

Oh shit! Did that mean Sam was here too? And what about Cas?

"Danneel you won't  _believe_ the traffic on 99—Jensen!" She threw down her bags and ran to the bed, hugging him tightly. "Holy shit you're  _awake!_ " Dean felt  _extremely_ awkward letting  _Ruby_ hug him. . . She let go and glared at 'Danneel'. "And why are you not texting everybody?!"

"Um, my  _boyfriend_ just came back from the dead? My first thought wasn't to text everyone about it." Gen 'tsked' and pulled out her phone.

"Typical. It's okay I got you covered," He felt Danneel squeeze his hand and smile at him adoringly. He smiled nervously back, feeling even more uncomfortable. He decided to ask questions. Danneel might be hurt that he remembered others and not her, but she would just have to deal with it.

"How's J-Jared?" He asked Ruby (he couldn't stop seeing her as Ruby in his head). He avoided Danneel's eyes and focused on the bitch—well he supposed Ruby wasn't a bitch in this universe (or was she? He didn't know). She looked at him and grinned.

"He's been moping around 'cause his drinking buddy is out of commission. He'll be ecstatic to see you're back," That was weird. Wasn't it that last time they were on bad terms? He nodded, speaking one more time.

"Misha?"

"Taking care of your dying fangirls. It's like the world has ended because Jensen Ackles is in a coma. The internet is freaking out." Right. . . He was a popular actor. So was it that Sam and Castiel weren't in this world? Or perhaps they got here the same time Dean did? He looked up at the nurse, already bored.

"When can I get out of here?"

"We'll keep you overnight to monitor your levels, but you should be good to go bright and early tomorrow morning." The nurse smiled before grabbing her clip board and getting up. "You look good, Jensen. The dysarthria should clear up in a couple weeks. Hopefully the pain in your head goes away. I've hooked you up to a morphine drip so if it gets really bad, just press the little blue button and the pain should go away quickly.

The pain had receded to a dull ache, but it was still pretty persistent. Too bad he didn't plan on staying here long enough to use that button.

"Um, can I have some time alone, guys?" Danneel stood up, smiling.

"Of course, babe." She leant in and kissed him softly on the forehead and Dean wondered what Jensen did to deserve this woman. She was so nice and understanding—Not to mention she was drop dead  _gorgeous_.

If he wasn't playing for a dude, he would totally be on top of that. Quite literally.

Story was though, he  _was_ playing for a dude. An angel. It was nice thinking about being with Danneel but it brought chills down his spine thinking about being with Cas. Suddenly his mouth went dry and he was overwhelmed with the feeling of just  _missing_ him so damn much.

After everybody left and the door was shut, Dean wasted no time.

"Castiel? Castiel, I kind of need you right now buddy. I'm in this alternate reality again and I would like to come back. Like now?  _Cas_."

There was no answer.

Well shit. Now he was in the hospital bed  _alone_. His stomach chose that moment to growl viciously. He supposed he better get some real food into him before he wasted away. Feeding tubes and water drips only did so much.

Why was he suddenly dating this beautiful woman and why weren't Jared and Jensen fighting anymore?

Why would Cas just leave him alone in this world?

He carefully extracted his IV and got out of bed, a bit wobbly on his underused legs but finding his balance soon enough.

One thing was certain, he wasn't about to just sit in this bed all damn night brooding about it.

Time to find the nearest burger joint.

_Canada here I come._


	2. Chapter 2

After he found Jensen Ackle's suit jacket and various graphic T-shirts neatly put away in the closet, he was dressed and ready to jump ship. Sneaking past the orderlies at the hospital was nothing, the  _real_ problem was the security guards.

Apparently popular actors literally couldn't be anywhere without body guards. Jensen Ackles was no exception. Dean had to use his best agent moves to weave in and out of the crowd undetected. He scanned the hospital lobbies to see if there were any familiar faces, preferably a large, flannel wearing moose man and a brooding sex God in a too-big trench coat.

He was out of luck, so he decided he was going to get out of there. Eventually he did, hiding his face from the security cameras, he exited through the big glass doors and skidded his way down the sidewalk in the nippy Canadian air.

Why did he always find himself in these messes? Did he  _really_  fuck up that bad in another life?

It wasn't long 'til he found a small diner and went inside, keeping his eyes peeled for big burly guys with suits and ear pieces. He sat down at a booth and covered his face with the menu. It wasn't even a minute before the waitress came by. Dean didn't even dare look at her. He really,  _really_ didn't need to be noticed right now. He had to get out of this stupid place. But first he needed some grub.

"What can I get for you today, sir?" Dean stared determinedly into the menu, looking for all the world more interested in his decision than a child picking out a bicycle.

"Pancakes, eggs, sausage. Wheat toast, please?"

"Perfect. I'll need your menu though," Dean froze, feeling panic rise in his chest. He saw her delicate fingers move to pull the menu but Dean held onto it with all his might.  _Shit. "_ Um. . . your menu, please?" Dean sighed and handed her the menu. He sat back, relying on hope that she didn't watch Supernatural.

Boy was today a bad day to have hope.

She was tall, had dark blonde hair and her makeup seemed a bit smudged at the corners. She wasn't ugly but she didn't seem like a supermodel either. She was gathering the menu with the other ones under her arm before she looked up, her brown eyes widening in alarm. It wasn't even two seconds before she squealed.

"Fucking hell-You're Jensen Ackles! Holy shit. . . Weren't you in a coma? God, are you okay?" Holy crap  _Jensen fucking Ackles!_ " She called to the kitchen, literally jumping up and down. _"_ MARY! FUCKING _DEAN_ IS IN OUR  _DINER,"_ Well shit. . . He had to do something and fast before she drew more attention to him.

 _Use what you have_.

That's what the old man always taught him. She was a fan of the show "Supernatural" right?

He stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug and she shut up instantly, her body frozen. Dean would have thought she had a heart attack and died if he hadn't heard her stuttering heartbeat against his chest. He leaned in and whispered close to her ear.

"Look," He pulled back to take a look at her name tag. "Deb. I'm in a bit of a pinch here and I need to lay low. You're a fan of Dean Winchester, right?" She nodded frantically, tears literally welling up in her eyes. He forced a smile. "Well Dean could really use your help right now" Suddenly her knees seemingly gave out and she grabbed Dean's shoulders for support. Her voice was shaking and barely a whisper.

"A-Anything for you, Dean. . ." She pulled him down so that he was a mere inch from her face. The next words were harsh and desperate. ". . . _Anything!_ " Dean blinked and forced a tight smile, patting her on the head.

"Okay listen. How difficult would it be for us to blow this popsicle stand and find me someplace to hide?" Dean said confidently. He'd always wanted to use 'blow this popsicle stand' in a sentence!

"Deborah Swanson at your service! I will fucking quit my job for you," Dean smiled uncomfortably.

"That's. . . completely unnecessary. . ." Suddenly a woman came striding around the corner, looking livid.

"Deborah! What in the name of Jesus are you—" Deb winked, stuck her finger down her throat and gagged, turning around and promptly chucking her cookies all over the floor. Dean grimaced and fought the urge to take a step back. Good move. . . a bit excessive (and gross, don't forget gross), but effective. He kneeled down to her level and pulled back her hair as she dry heaved onto the floor. The woman in a stuffy red turtle neck stared disgusted at the scene. Dean looked up at her apologetically.

"Um, sorry ma'am, my girlfriend suddenly came down with the flu so I'm going to have to take her home," The woman looked at him suspiciously. Her cover-up was cracking and she had really deep frown lines. It seemed that her hair was wound so tight that her hairline was receding. It occurred to him that she  _probably_ wasn't part of the Supernatural fanbase. He read her name-tag and it read  _Agnes Barnsberry._

" _You're_ her boyfriend?"

"Actually I'm her fiancée. We're going to be married in the spring," He said, hoping the sweetness in his voice didn't sound  _too_ forced.

"She never told me she was engaged. What's your name?"

"Dean. Dean Winchester," He said honestly. The chances of her knowing who that was, was slim based on her reaction to him thus far. She screwed up her face.

"Now that I think about it she did mention something about a Dean boy being her future husband a few times. Never thought she was actually serious though. . ." Dean continued to smile at her, thanking his lucky stars he met such an—um— _involved_ fan. She sighed in resignation, looking pitifully at the blonde girl on the floor. "Very well. Please get her out of my diner. She's scaring my guests." Dean took a look around, seeing the disgusted and mildly horrified looks of some of the patrons around him. He helped Deb to her feet and quickly guided her to the exit.

"No not that one." She hissed. "The one in the back. That's where my car is and it's less crowded that way." Dean nodded and allowed her to guide him to the back of the restaurant.

When they made it out there, Deb wasted no time in ushering him into her green Taurus parked in the back of the restaurant, muttering something like "I can't believe. . . Jensen fucking  _Ackles. . . in my car!"_ She hopped in on the other side and gripped the steering wheel tightly, taking a deep breath in and out.

"Are you okay?"

"Sorry, just. . . digesting everything that's just happened. Have you ever had a moment when you realize you could just die and not regret  _anything_? It's happening to me right now. Jensen Ackles, playing  _Dean fucking Winchester_ hugged me and called me his fiancée. This kind of shit is not to be taken lightly, you know?" Dean momentarily wondered just where she got that  _mouth._

"Um, you  _do_ realize I'm right here? Also you're not actually my fiancée." She grinned and looked up to something Dean definitely couldn't see.

"This is probably the best day of my life. Let me enjoy it will you? And why are you still talking in your Dean voice?" Again with the fucking voice.

"Um. . .Dysarth um—Coma side-effect. . .thing." Hell, it wasn't  _Dean's_ fault it was a stupid, easily forgotten word. She nodded, obviously not buying it. It was okay, Dean didn't really buy it either, but it was the best he had.

"Right, you just got out of your coma. . . So wait, why are you running anyways? Aren't you supposed to have your body guards and people fussing over you?"

"I ditched them. I just can't handle being around all those people right now. I'm still a bit weird from waking up and it's too much. Can you just. . . I don't know, distract me from that?" She grinned widely.

"Of course. I'm really good at being distracting." He supposed he better play the part of Jensen as best he could.

"Can I ask you just how you got to like Supernatural?"

Dean realized just then how stupid it was to ask fans about the shows that they were obsessed with. He was soon subjected to at least thirty minutes of Supernatural show highlights. It was his own life, but she made it seem like the most lamest piece of crap in the world and Dean wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that (seeing as that was his  _life)._  Deb was accurately replaying count by count every fight and battle and emotional hardship Dean had ever been in. It was like when he read a few of those Supernatural books, only it was weirder listening to somebody talk about it. Was he  _really_ that cheesy?

"And Lucifer is  _so_  hot!"

"Lucifer is fucking  _Lucifer_ , Deb" Dean said, a bit disgusted. Deb waved her hand dismissively.

"I have a thing for baddies, okay? Also, soulless Sam was way cooler than regular Sam, in my opinion," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Have you ever thought about what  _you'd_  be like without a soul?"

"I'd definitely be a burden to society," Feasible!

"And what do you think about Castiel?" He inquired. Suddenly her eyes took on the glassy, dreamy look that they did when she first noticed him in the diner.

"The perfect boyfriend," Well Cas was pretty attractive and strong and honest and— "For Dean," Wait.

"Wait so you think. . .  _Dean and Cas?_ Together?" He asked in disbelief. Deb put on her best Sam-esque bitchface. It was impressive.

"Well duh. It's bound to happen eventually. Have you  _seen_  the lingering sex eyes they make at each other. . . Wait. I suppose you haven't." She looked thoughtful for a moment and Dean rolled his eyes. Deb grinned, her demeanor turning confident and self-assured. "Dean is in love with Cas. It's written all over your face when you play him. "

Dean fumbled with his jeans, feeling his face heat up. "You realize they're both dudes, right? Besides, Dean is straight."

"Yeah but he's totally gay for Castiel," Dean knew he  _was,_  but he hadn't exactly told anybody but Cas yet so he wasn't entirely sure how believable the whole thing was.

"And you're confident about this?"

"I don't know what the writers are doing, but they have you guys giving each other sex eyes at least one time in every episode you're in together. Do they  _tell_ you and Misha to do that? Or does it just happen? And with the heartfelt "I need yous, and smiles directed at each other  _all the fucking time!_  Like seriously just have angry sex already for fuck's sake! Ohmygod, Jensen! Are Dean or Cas going to confess to each other in the next season?" Deb looked at him desperately, her eyes wide in anticipation. Dean was feeling really uncomfortable now. Did he really do all that? Was it  _that_  obvious?

"Right. Um. . .yeah I don't know. T-They don't tell me much. I just read the lines." Deb groaned in frustration, throwing up her hands.

"Well it  _needs_  to happen. Dean is like a lost puppy without Cas,"

"Will you shut your damn pie hole, already?" Dean said, annoyed and embarrassed. He was  _not_ a lost puppy. Deb eyed him worriedly.

"Dude, you sound  _really_ in-character right now."

"Well to be honest I—" He paused. What exactly was he about to tell her? Hi, I'm  _actually_ Dean Winchester stuck in Jensen Ackles' body? Did he  _want_ to get carted back to the hospital? But really what else could he do? "Deb I need a place to stay. I can't go to back there. I don't know anything about this place.

"Amnesia? From the coma?" Dean shook his head, willing her to understand.

"No, I know I'm an actor and I live this fancy life but. . . Deb if I tell you something, can you swear that you won't freak out? That you won't call the police and that you will believe me when I say that I'm  _not_ crazy?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I swear!" Dean grinned.

"I'm not Jensen Ackles." She looked at him blankly.

"Um, yeah you are."

"No! I mean I am, but I'm. . . Look this place is. . . Well you've watched Supernatural so you know that time when Dean and Sam got stuck in a different universe? The one where everybody in the show were really actors? Well it's kind of like that, okay? I'm Dean Winchester, really. From the show. The show is  _real._ I was attacked by vampires with Sam and Cas and I woke up here. I don't know why or how but I'm stuck in this universe again, and I don't know who Danneel is, but I remember Misha and Genevive being here the last time. Really, that's about all I know." Deb suddenly broke into peals of laughter.

"Oh you're good. No wonder you're famous! Wow it's weird being in the presence of an actor. You almost had me believing you for a moment!" Dean huffed impatiently.

"Deb, it's the truth. I'm not acting or playing or any of that other crap. Point is, I'm Dean Winchester. I'm stuck here in this reality and I don't know how to get back to my own. I can blame the holes in my knowledge of this place on the coma, but when it doesn't wear off, people are going to start to worry. I'm going to ruin Jensen's life if I don't get back soon." She stared at him for a long moment before turning in her seat.

"Wow. . ."

"Yeah, it's a pretty difficult situation,"

"You're  _actually_ insane!" She said, excitedly.

"What?"

"Either that or it's the coma. Wow, you really think you're Dean Winchester? I've never met a real crazy person before! Well except for my Auntie Lynn. . . She thought little people lived in her coffee cans!" Dean narrowed his eyes in annoyance, not appreciating the comparison.

"I  _am_ Dean Winchester!" Deb patted his back.

"Sure you are, hon. Look I know this is  _probably_ a bad idea. . . And really stupid, and selfish, and asshole-like. . . But I'm going to do you a solid and  _not_ call the hospital and tell them their insane patient escaped. . ." Dean's eyes shot up to her in panic.

"How did you—"

"Well I didn't for sure, but I do now. I noticed at the diner when your jacket was off that your IV site was agitated, which means that it was removed in a hurry. You are also still wearing your hospital bands on your wrist which implies that you were in too much of a hurry to remember to take them off. It was easy to deduce." Dean grit his teeth. Seems like Deb had watched one too many detective shows.

"Okay, so you got all that. And if you don't believe me,  _why_ are you going to help me?"

"Because fucking  _Jensen Ackles_  is asking for my help and you're stuck in like, permanent Dean mode and it's too fun not to watch. . . It's like I'm in an episode of Supernatural!" She squealed excitedly. Dean rolled his eyes and looked out the window. "Besides, I'm a CNA and I know your site isn't infected, but when we get to my house we really should clean it and bandage it properly so it doesn't become that way."

"Alright. Thanks then." He said uncomfortably. He wasn't sure what to make of this situation, but Deb seemed nice enough. And even though she thought he was completely flown over the cuckoo's nest, at least he could lay low for a bit while he waited for word from Sam or Cas. It was weird. She really didn't believe him, yet she was still going along with his plan.

She started the car and told him he was going to take him to her apartment. She didn't know other inconspicuous places she could hide a Jensen Ackles. They drove down highway 99 and she started chattering some more about  _Supernatural,_ and Dean was quickly getting sick of hearing his own life dictated back to him. He couldn't complain though, she was really doing him a favor here. He proceeded to pretend to be interested. Suddenly she paused the rant and looked at him in alarm.

"Oh, shit! You can't go around town with those big, girly, green eyes of yours or you'll be recognized! You're in the hometown of Supernatural. You need to travel in stealth!" She pulled out a giant black pair of Dolce & Gabbanna sunglasses and put them on his face. He looked in the visor mirror and winced at how completely and utterly ridiculous (and admittedly feminine) he looked wearing them, but at least he could stay at least partially hidden this way. "Hopefully they don't recognize you by your bow legs," Dean shot her a sunglasses obscured glare. She looked back at him and shrugged. Dean sighed.

"Don't you have a pair of more manly sunglasses?"

"Do I  _look_ like I have a dick to you,  _'Dean'_?" Deb wiggled her fingers in the air making sarcastic quotation marks. Dean narrowed his eyes, a biting remark at the ready.

"Sorry you keep talking like a guy so I get confused." She scoffed and turned around, simply to giggle to herself. Dean shook his head. And  _he_ was supposedly the crazy one?

As they drove, Dean recapped to himself the events of today. Waking up in the actor reality, meeting Jensen's loving girlfriend of six years. Escaping the hospital and meeting Deborah Swanson—A young woman with a sailor mouth who practiced stealing renowned actors recovering from comas; Just what kind of person what he dealing with?

Well perhaps it was better  _not_  to ask questions like that.

Suddenly his jacket pocket started vibrating. He reached in and pulled out a cell phone. This phone definitely belonged to Jensen Ackles. . . It was one of those fancy touch screen iWhatever things. The picture that displayed who was calling made him jump in alarm.

Cas was wearing a stupid knitted monkey hat and looking completely and utterly serious about it.

The display read "Misha Collins".


	3. Chapter 3

It was Cas.

Cas was calling him! All Dean could think about while looking at his face on the display was that Cas was in the body of Misha Collins and he was contacting him. Dean wasted no time in pressing the "Accept" button on the display. In retrospect, he supposed he should have given it some more thought. Deb watched Dean press a button the phone, making all sorts of connections in her head before she said in a panicked voice.

"Wait, Jensen what are you do—" Dean held up his finger to quiet her. Deb looked at him expectantly before turning her attention back to the road, a worried wrinkle between her brows. They were entering the parking lot of a small apartment complex. The buildings were made of brick and they looked pretty shabby. Deb was mouthing desperately, "Who is it!?"

"Cas? Cas is that you?" The voice he was met with was. . . Well it wasn't Cas's deep baritone he'd donned on most occasions (Their life was usually pretty grim), but he knew that voice was not unlike Cas when he was speaking conversationally.

"On some days, yes, but today no. It's Misha." Dean tried to hide his disappointment from showing on his face—he failed. Deb raised her eyebrows in question. "Jensen, did you really break out of the hospital? How did you get past the body guards? Don't get me wrong, I'm impressed but. . . Well now I have your frantic manager on one line, and your pissed off girlfriend on the other and I don't know what to do about that."

"It's a long story. Look, um,  _Misha_." Deb visibly stopped breathing and looked like she was about to explode. This must have been her 'controlling' herself. "Tell Danneel and my  _manager_ that I met a friend and I'm going to be staying with them for a while. I don't want you guys to worry because I'm alright. I just need some time to think." They pulled into a parking space and Deb turned off the engine, turning to watch Dean's conversation intently.

"Right well, why don't we just go inside and chat about it." Dean was suddenly very confused.

"Excuse me?"

"Look behind you," Dean looked back and, parked behind Deb's car was a silver BMW. Dean's heart did a funny little stutter at the sight of Cas— _Misha Collins_ in that car. He resisted the urge to run up to him and kiss him senseless, but he decided to save himself the awkward conversation and controlled himself. The man was holding up two six packs of bottled root beer with a giant, goofy grin on his face.

Deb's head fell back against the seat. She didn't turn around and look, just said breathlessly.

"Misha Collins is in my parking lot, isn't he?"

"That's about right,"

"Why did the actors have to come to my apartment on  _laundry_ day?"

::oOo::

"How did you find me?" Dean demanded.

Deb was disinfecting and bandaging Dean's arm properly as he sat in her modest living room across from Ca—Misha. Apparently Deb had a roommate that was out of town. The apartment was pretty neatly kept. It looked like a normal person's home and, for the first time, Dean was grateful for that. He didn't think he could handle a grandiose place like Jared Padalecki's right now. It would be just too much. They both had root beers in their hands and Deb was happily chatting away to him. Apparently she liked Misha Collins just as much as Jensen Ackles (maybe more by how excited she was).

The man looked exactly like Cas but Dean had to remind himself over and over that he  _wasn't_ Cas. He had Cas's hair, eyes, smile, and their voices sounded similar sometimes, but he wasn't Cas. This man was an actor who  _played_ Cas.

Now if only he could convince his heart of that story. Perhaps, then, it would stop beating a mile a minute.

It was taking everything in his willpower not to jump the man right then and there, also Deb was there and that would be kind of weird. (Would she leave or would she watch, Dean wondered. He honestly didn't know at this point).

"There's this nifty little app called "Find my iPhone, and Jensen's given his password to a select few in case of emergencies. Your phone is easily traced." Right. Of fucking course. "Jensen," Dean's eyes snapped up to Misha's, since they were currently resting on his lips. He coughed awkwardly. "Jensen, are you sure you're okay?"  _He's not Cas, you idiot_.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah, I feel fine. I just. . ."

"The only memories Jensen has are  _Supernatural_  memories!" Deb piped in. Dean shoved her away and gave her a face like,  _"Really?"_

"Supernatural memories? What is she talking about, Jensen?"

Whatever, like he'd be able to keep the secret anyways. "Look, I'm not  _Jensen_  okay? I'm just borrowing his body for a bit before I go back to my own life and you guys can carry on. Once Cas gets back to me we can all be on our merry way and forget this ever even happened." Misha laughed.

"Hah, April was last month. I appreciate your dedication though. You're doing an excellent job!" Dean groaned in frustration, standing up (much to Deb's annoyance).

"It's not a joke, alright? Believe what you want, I don't care. Once I get out of this Jensen guy and back to my own body you all can have a good laugh about it." Ca-Misha tilted his head in a Cas-but-not-Cas-at-all-like fashion.

"Wait so. . . It's not a joke? You think you're  _Dean?_ Dean Winchester? Is that why you're using The Voice?"

"What the hell is with you people and my voice? This is how I freakin' talk okay?" Misha looked to Deb in alarm and stood up, getting into Dean's face and looking at him in fascination.

"You don't have any memories of your life as Jensen?" He asked. Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"I know you're an actor that plays Castiel on Supernatural? But that's because I was zapped into this reality by Balthazar. I know Ruby or Guinevive or whatever her name—"

"Genevieve," Misha supplied. Dean nodded.

"Yeah. I know she's married to Sam, or rather Jared Padawhatsit, in this reality. I just. . ." Dean shook his head. "Look all my knowledge of this place comes from that time so it's extremely limited, okay? I'm Dean Winchester. I know it sounds crazy, and you probably just think I'm delirious, but I'm telling the truth." Misha looked at him incredulously for a moment. His voice was one of wonder and amazement, like he couldn't really believe he was seeing this.

"You poor thing. You really are Dean Winchester lost in this reality, huh?"

"I know you don't believe me so I'm not going to try to—Wait what? You believe me?"

"Well I believe you're not  _lying,_ Jensen. I've known you for too many years as Jensen  _and_ Dean to know when you're not being honest." Misha sighed and sat back down on the green couch, motioning for Dean to join him. Dean sat down, cautiously and Misha turned so that he was facing him. The proximity was welcoming to Dean who was used to Cas always standing so close to him. He didn't think it would be so bad to relax in this guy's calming presence for just a little bit.

Misha continued. "I don't honestly think you're  _actually_ Dean Winchester, since in my reality he is a fictional character that is merely written on a piece of paper and acted out. I do believe that the reality exists in your head, Jensen. It could be that, in place of the memories you're missing as Jensen Ackles, you've replaced them with the script. I believe you really are, essentially Dean right now, at least in your head. Who am I to tell you otherwise? I'm just an actor to you. I couldn't possibly understand the life you've lived and the things you've seen. My version of reality and your version of reality are two very different things, however they both exist and I can't deny yours any more than you can deny mine. I'm not that arrogant."

"So. . . You don't believe me but at the same time you do? I'm sorry you lost me," Misha chuckled, patting him on the head.

"I guess the only way to find out whose reality is the real and whose is a lie is to wait it out. If you're actually Jensen Ackles, who just dreamed up the Supernatural reality, then eventually you will have something happen that will trigger your actor memories. If you're right, and you're Dean Winchester, then out there somewhere is Castiel and Sam trying to get you back—And I've only lived it through the script, but if they really  _did_ exist, I'm sure they're doing everything they can to get you back." Dean bit his lip, trying not to cry because he couldn't believe just how cool Misha Collins was. How many people would react to a situation like this so level-headedly?

"So I'm not getting locked up in a nuthouse?"

"Not today. Maybe tomorrow though. I guess we'll just see how you are. If you don't drink your root beer soon I might to have to call the authorities." The corner of Dean's mouth quirked a bit, taking a swig of the drink.

"Okay, and what do you propose I do while I wait to hear word from Cas and Sam?" Dean didn't even need to pretend the alternative was a possibility. He wasn't any actor and he never would be—That much was certain. The last time he tried to act in this reality it was a fiasco. The director dude (bobby singer!) seemed really pissed off. . .

"Wait it out. Try to stay out of the papers and the internet as much as possible and don't let anybody else find out you're like this. Maybe you should try to be a bit less grumpy, too. Dean sounds more like Jensen when he's in a good mood." Dean rolled his eyes. Misha tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You can't stay in hiding forever. You'll probably have to go back to your hotel and stay with Danneel."

"What? Why?"

"Well, your doctors are going to insist that you be around things that will potentially trigger your memories. You'll need to be around the people Jensen was always around and live your life the way Jensen lived it. If you really are Dean, you're lucky you had a traumatic event that can explain your amnesia!" Deb managed to finish bandaging Dean's arm and stood up, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"If he was Dean, wouldn't it be too convenient that Jensen was injured and in a coma and suddenly they chose that time to send him here? I'm pretty sure you're just in full global-transience, there dude!"

"Global what?"

"It's when you lose entire years of your memory from a traumatic event." Misha said. "Situation-specific is when you can't remember just the accident."

"Well I don't remember that either. I remember the accident in my  _own_ world. I was hit by a freakin' plank of wood by a vamp and knocked out cold. I thought I was dead." Misha raised an eyebrow.

"There's a theory, Jensen. Maybe you  _did_ die and you were shoved into Jensen's body because God didn't know where else to put you! If you remember from the show, I'm pretty sure you're not welcome in either heaven  _or_ hell at this time." Dean looked at him, not impressed.

"Can we just stick with the basics here? And will you stop calling me Jensen?" Misha stretched, lying back on the couch and Dean had to do everything in his power not to stare hungrily at his lithe form that reminded him  _way_ too much of the fact that he hadn't been laid in a week.

"Everybody else is going to call you Jensen, so you might as well get used to answering to it." Dean curled his lip.

"It's a little hard to answer to Jensen Ackles when I'm  _Dean Winchester_ ,"

"Allegedly," Misha added. Dean was losing patience quickly. Misha watched him sulk for a bit before sighing. "Fine, I'll call you Dean when we're not in front of people, but remember;  _Nobody_ can know about you thinking you're—okay, okay,  _being_ Dean, except maybe Jared."

"About that. I thought Jared and Jensen hated each other in this reality. What changed?" Misha grinned.

"That's what makes this show fun. They took the strongest relationship and wrote it completely opposite. It was for entertainment. Jared and Jensen have always gotten along, they're like best friends. They might as well be brothers," Well that was a relief. At least  _something_ was right here. "Since you don't know that, that proves that you haven't actually been to this reality. You only remember the television script."

"It proves nothing. This could just be a completely different reality altogether."

Dean supposed he could forgive Misha for not buying his story. In their reality this shit wasn't possible. Then again, it shouldn't have been possible in  _his_ reality either. In fact, most people in his reality thought it wasn't. If this wasn't the exact same reality as the one he found himself in before, were things that happened here too? Hunting-type things. Vampires, witches? Obviously Jensen was no hunter, so Dean couldn't very well find out. It would be dangerous too. Things might work differently here. Maybe demons could be killed by tickling. He grinned at the thought.

"Enjoying yourself?" Misha said, amused.

"Just fantasizing a bit. No harm, no foul." He waved his hand dismissively and stood up. "So what do we do now?"

"Well the press is going to want to know what's going on. Jensen's manager Rachel knows that I'm with you and that you're alright. We will call her and his agent Gayle and tell them that Kelly needs to have a conference with the press to let them know your situation before all the rumors start. I can see it now; Jensen Ackles: Hospital Escapee,"

"Where are those bodyguard dudes at the hospital?" Dean said worriedly. "Also, who's Kelly?"

"The handlers have been dismissed. As long as we're locked up tightly, they don't need to be there twenty-four/seven. As for Kelly, She's your- _Jensen's_  publicist." Misha corrected himself. "She deals with all of the media for him. She's part of Jensen's staff."

"His  _staff_? Just how many people does this guy have working for him?"

"Well along with those three, there's his handlers, his acting coach, personal trainer, nutritionist, photographer, business manager, there's also the housekeepers and the gardeners in Texas. He has an assistant when he's working at his office, too. Did I mention Jensen is also a director? There's a bunch of people that work for him." Dean looked at Misha incredulously.

"How does he make any money when he has to pay all of those people?"

"I think you're underestimating just how famous this show is here. Unlike the episode  _The French Mistake,_ This show is actually very well received. If you've seen the size of your ranch, you'd understand." Dean did a double-take.

"My  _ranch?!_ "

"Oh right, he has a horse caretaker there too." Dean felt his heart beat just a bit faster at Misha's words. A  _ranch._ With stables and a bunch of horses and. . . Well that didn't sound too bad. He'd never considered owning a ranch before. . .

Actually he'd never thought about having anything before. He never thought about having a house or a life outside of hunting. He'd  _had_ one with Lisa and Ben, but that hadn't been exactly what he'd always dreamed of _._ He supposed if he'd ever put any real thought into it, if he were made of money, he'd definitely own a ranch. Maybe he and this Jensen guy were more alike than he first gave him credit.

"There's also your martial arts master," Ok yep. Definitely cut from the same cloth—Except. . .

There was something he needed to confirm if this really was a different reality.

"Did. . . um, Jensen still play in a soap opera?"

"Yes." Damn. Ok still pretty weird. . . But he supposed he  _did_ indulge in a good episode of Dr. Sexy every now and then.

And then there was the whole gay for Castiel thing.

Misha laughed.

"Ah, that episode. I remember how bad Dean was at acting. Are you really that bad?" Dean looked affronted.

"Hey I didn't think I was  _that_ bad! I wasn't nearly as bad as Sam." Misha stared at him for a moment.

"It's kind of surreal, talking to you like this. My rational mind keeps telling me you're just a very damaged Jensen Ackles, but It's kind of like talking to Dean himself. You have to be one of the best actors in the world to be able to actually live as TV show character without even knowing it." Dean narrowed his eyes. He was getting pretty sick of being dismissed as a delusional actor. Misha waved his hands. "That doesn't mean I'm denying your story. Like I said, my rational mind," He pointed to his head. Dean lifted his chin and turned away.

Deb came out of the kitchen holding a platter of slightly-burnt cookies. Dean looked up at her in amazement. When had she scuttled away?

"I made these yesterday!" Misha smiled, standing up, clapping his hands together.

"I don't mean to be rude, but we have to get going. But if you'll wrap them up I'm sure we'll eat them all in a very rapid fashion later." Deb smiled dreamily and saluted, heading back to the kitchen.

"Just where are we going?"

"To my hotel. You can't just stay here because I don't trust you to stay out of trouble and not to spill your guts to everyone. You know, like Dean did in the show."

::oOo::

After they said they said goodbye to Deb, Dean wondered if he'd ever see her again. She'd slipped them her 'business card'—Dean didn't bother asking  _why_ she had one.

As they drove, Dean pondered how much this man looked like Cas, but at the same time wasn't like him at all. Misha was cheerful and happy and understood every idiom and phrasal verb he had to throw at him. Every detail of his face was like the Castiel he knew, but Dean had to persistently remind himself that this man wasn't an angel. He was as human as Dean was.

He wondered what Cas was doing now? He'd like to think that the angel would be doing everything in his power to get him back, but the day was already over and there was no word from Cas  _or_ Sam. Just how long did it take to make a few symbols and come and get him?

What if the vampires overwhelmed them?

Dean felt his stomach drop. He never thought of that. What if they didn't actually win that fight? What if Dean was stuck here forever?

"Stop that." Dean snapped his eyes back up to Misha, feeling like he was just pulled out of ice-cold water.

"What?"

"The tension is rolling off you in waves. Are you worried about them?"

"They're fine." Dean insisted. Misha sighed.

"Dean always comes back." The Winchester narrowed his eyes.

"What are talking about?"

"In the show. Whenever you're lost or dead or something, you're always brought back somehow. You and Sam are the main characters. There's no way you would be lost so easily." Dean realized that Misha was trying to comfort him, whether or not he actually believed a word of the things he was saying was still up for debate.

"You forget; It ain't a TV show for me. I'm just as killable in my world as everybody else is."

"Even if it wasn't just a show, Sam and Cas love you enough to do everything in their power to bring you back." Dean bit his lip.

"If they're able to. What if that fight turned bad? What if they didn't get out of that nest, huh? I'm sitting around here when my brother and my b—best friend could be dead." What was he about to say Castiel was to him? His  _boyfriend?_ He was pretty sure they never got to establish that. Would he ever get the chance to do so?

Dean looked out the window. The city lights were bright and it seemed like Vancouver was just coming to life while he felt like he was being suffocated to death by all of his uncertainty.

"You can't think about that."

"How can I not fucking think about that?" Dean said, his voice strained.

"Even if the chances that they're dead are high, if you think they are then you're going to lock up and then you'll fuck up. You know how Dean gets when he gets emotional. You'll have given up and simultaneously ruin Jensen's career, and that's not fair to either of you. At least put off your misery until it's actually proven, okay?" Dean said nothing, just continued to look out the window. He supposed Misha was right. There wasn't any point in stressing over something he wasn't even certain about. He had to sit tight until he got some sort of confirmation or sign that his two most important people in the world were out there and trying to get him back.

::

Misha's hotel was huge and he seemed to reside in one of the VIP suits—You know, the ones that are like mini apartment buildings? With the minibar and the mini fridge and the mini everything?

After a shower, Dean went out into the living area and found Misha working on his computer. He stood back, watching the actor's hands typing away on the keyboard for a moment and was reminded of Cas's hands. His beautiful, strong hands that drove him crazy in so many ways. He bit his lip, wondering if he'd ever feel those hands again. He wondered what Jensen thought of those hands. Had he even ever felt them? Doesn't he know how amazing they are?

"You can come out here, you know. I don't bite. Often." Dean did his best not to get turned on by that statement. He knew that  _his_ Castiel bit and very often. Perhaps it was time to see where Misha stood on the whole Castiel in love with Dean thing.

"So the show— _Supernatural._ W-What's the last thing that happened?"

"It was the end of the season. Dean, Sam and Cas found out that the angel that took over Heaven was in league with a demon. All of the supernatural creatures know about the bounty on their heads and have started hunting them." Dean nodded. Cas and Dean hadn't started sleeping together until after all of that.

"S-So you don't know anything about the next season?"

"Well Jensen does, since he's helping direct it." Right. Dude was a director. "We were actually planning filming to start next week but then there was your—Jensen's accident." Dean appreciated that Misha was trying to humor him by not referring to him as 'Jensen'. It was actually pretty sweet. Misha wasn't a bad guy.

"So you don't know what happened after that?"

"You do?" He countered. Dean walked in and sat next to Misha on the couch, cradling his head in his arms behind his head. The faint glow of the lamp on the table beside him was casting a very calming aura around the room.

"What happens, well, I guess you could say that nobody would expect it. Then again I guess there are some people who were kind of hoping for it, if Deb is anything to go by." He said in a cryptic manner. Misha looked at him interestedly.

"He read the script but we never discussed it. Are you going to spoil it for me?"

"M-Maybe you should just wait to find out until you get Jensen back? It would be a lot less awkward." Dean added, ruefully. The man looked at him curiously before turning back to his screen.

"Ah, the rumors on the internet are already spreading. Kelly let it slip that you escaped from the hospital.

"What, why?!"

"It's a good publicity stunt. Jensen's a pretty spontaneous guy, and the fans would find it hilarious. They'd love him even more."

"So publicists make those kinds of decisions without consulting their actors?"

"She wanted to ask you about it, but I told her it would be a bad idea considering the condition you're in. Jensen pays her enough to trust her to do what's right for his career. At this point, since Jensen is indisposed, his fame is in  _her_ hands. Not yours." Dean lifted his chin and looked up at the ceiling.

"So I guess this guy's got his ass covered in all situations, even the extreme ones like life altering amnesia."

"Yep, Jensen's constructed the perfect meltdown crisis aversion team. It's pretty impressive." Misha looked troubled. "The producer, Sera is considering putting the show on hiatus until you're better."

"Probably a good move,"

"Right, but fans won't be happy,"

"You just said the show was popular, though. They'll bounce right back when the show starts airing again." Dean said confidently.

"I said it was popular but that doesn't mean it's not replaceable. There are plenty of good series on television, and pilot season is just around the corner. With Supernatural on hiatus, that's enough time for our fanbase to get addicted to an equally interesting and new series. It's going to be hard not to take the primetime slot this season like we'd initially planned.

"Well it's only been one day, Ca-Misha." He corrected himself. It was just as hard for him to call this guy Misha as it was for Misha to call him Dean, apparently. "I'm sure by tomorrow you won't even have to deal with me," Misha smirked.

"Not that I don't enjoy your presence.  _Mr. Winchester_ , but what if we happen to be stuck with you?"

"Then I guess I'd need to learn how to be an actor pretty quick, huh?" Dean said jokingly, standing up. He clapped a hand on Misha's shoulder. "You could give me tips." Dean walked towards the guest bed, kicking off his designer jeans. "I'm going to crash. Hope I don't see you in the morning!" He saluted and promptly plopped onto the bed.

"Me giving Jensen Ackles acting tips," Misha mused, thoughtfully. "How delightfully obscene."

::


	4. Chapter 4

Years of being a hunter had Dean trained not to sleep too lightly. Always being half awake, he never did sleep very well, but at least he could say he'd never been stabbed in his sleep. When he was awoken by a soft clicking of the door, immediately he took stock of himself and the too-soft bed and the clean smell.

Not a dingy hotel, then. He felt disappointment wrap around him in a cold embrace.

Not his  _world_.

The door opened and he resisted the urge to jump out of bed and demand the identity of the intruder, because in this world the chances of finding a demon in his room—one ready to exact revenge, were very little.

The person padded over softly and sat on the edge of his bed, probably assuming Dean was still sleeping. He felt a soft hand card its fingers through his hair and he tried not to tense up. Nobody ever touched him like that. He wasn't comfortable with them doing it now, either.

"You think I don't know you're awake?" A familiar female voice chuckled. Dean opened his eyes and they fell on the form of Danneel. The meager glow of the sunrise barely illuminating her fine features. She smiled and set her hands on her lap.

"Sorry." Dean said, not sure what else to say on the matter.

"It's okay. You still don't remember me, Jens?" Dean sat against the headboard.

"I don't. I'm sorry." He didn't know what he disliked more; Jensen or Jens? It was a close tie. He wished she'd stop calling him both.

Danneel sighed, looking out the window sadly, her eyes burning amber against the sun.

"I don't know what I expected." She started, her fingers nervously worrying the hem of her red jacket. "I always knew that amnesia was a real possibility after you woke up. I just thought, perhaps, it wouldn't happen to you—and even if it did, that you wouldn't forget me, of all people." Dean shifted uncomfortably. What was  _Dean_  supposed to do about that? This wasn't even his life!

"I'm sorry—" She shook her head.

"It's not your fault. You didn't  _ask_ for this." She paused for a moment, biting her lip before speaking again. "I wanted to ask you if maybe we could try something. . . I know this might sound weird, but I've heard of people remembering through touch so. . ." She looked down at the floor nervously and Dean was worried she was about to rip her jacket to shreds before he suddenly had an armful of Danneel.

Dean wasn't sure what was happening until he felt her glossy lips on his, her tongue pushing into his mouth, and her hands on the side of his face. He froze, not expecting that at all.

It was a desperate kiss, like she would die if she stopped. As she pressed closer, he could feel her slim waist beneath his fingers and her firm breasts pressing against his chest—

Dean felt  _nothing_.

This was weird, because last time he checked, he was still into women. Even if he was kind of sort of not really with Castiel, he still found women attractive. He still subscribed to Busty Asian Beauties. He still watched animated chicks online. . .

This was probably one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in his life and he felt absolutely  _nothing_ as she kissed him. Cas couldn't have had  _that_ big of an impact on him.

She kept kissing him, trying her hardest to wring a reaction from him but he still couldn't move. He was horrified and starting to feel very uncomfortable with this whole situation. He fleetingly wondered how jealous Cas would get if he saw this right now. He  _almost_  grinned.

Danneel's hands trailed lower and lower and when she found what she was looking for. Dean jumped in surprise. He desperately fought the urge to push her away, because he was kind of with someone, but he couldn't just let her know that. What would be his excuse anyways? It wasn't working out for her anyways. Dean couldn't have been farther from turned on at that point, for some reason. When she finally gave up, Dean cringed at the devastated look on her flushed face.

"Did you feel  _anything_?" Dean avoided her eyes.

"Y-Yeah it was fine," She grabbed his chin and turned him to face her. Her eyebrows knitted together in distress.

"Look at me." She studied his face for a minute Dean bit his lip, certain she wasn't buying a damn word of it. "You didn't feel anything at all, did you?" Dean pulled away, feeling guilty even though it wasn't really his fault.

"Look, Danneel don't worry about it, okay? I'm still pretty messed up from the accident so I probably just need some time to recover." Dean supplied, hoping she would buy it. She shook her head.

"N-No you're right. Of course it's just the accident. It's too soon to be thinking about this." They sat in awkward silence for a moment before Dean couldn't handle it anymore.

"S-So do you, you know, usually stay with Jen-me when I'm doing the whole acting thing? Don't we live in Texas?"

"Well, I flew in from California. We were on set and then I got the call that you were seriously injured and that I needed to get here as soon as possible."

"Set? Like movie set?" She nodded. "You're an actress?" She smiled, taking his hand and rubbing it with her thumb. She was awfully touchy feely. . .

"You'll remember soon, sweetie." He coughed, using it as an excuse to pull his hand away.

"You don't. . . Look I'm fine now. You don't have to put your job on hold because of this," She looked at him in disbelief.

"You're. . . You think this is fine? Jensen you don't even remember  _me_ , your fiancé—your girlfriend for six  _years_. That's not fine." Six  _years._ That's a long ass time to be dating at their age. Why weren't they already married with a bunch of children? Isn't that what regular people did? He decided not to ask though. It really wasn't any of his business. She looked hurt for a moment. "You'd think I'd leave you alone like this? What kind of fiancée do you think I'd be if I did that?" There were tears in her eyes now and her hands were shaking. Dean sighed and looked at the ceiling in frustration. He didn't do well with emotional people. He took her by the shoulders and made her look at him.

"Danneel, there's no way to even say this but I don't  _know_ you. There's no point in you crying every time I don't remember something you and Jensen did or how you kissed him or whatever. I don't know who Jensen is and I don't know how to be him for you. You might as well just go film your movie and wait for me to get my memories back, 'cause it's just going to keep on hurting you if you don't." She shook her head, her shoulders trembling with hollow laughter.

"God that's  _so_ like you. Is insensitivity just in your nature then?" she stood up and refused to look at him. Her voice was full of bite when she spoke and Dean could tell she was angry now. "I was going to ask you to come back to the hotel, but I wouldn't want to have you hurt my feelings or anything outrageous like that. If you need me, you have my number. Try not to ask for anything too  _inconvenient._ " He could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes before she got up and stormed off. Dean reached out, for some reason feeling like he should probably stop her.

"Danneel—wait!" She looked back shaking her head dismissively.

"Just get better." That's all she said before she walked out again. Dean sighed.

And this was why he and women couldn't do long-term.

When Dean looked up again, he could see a figure standing there in the doorway—Tall and brooding. Upon closer inspection, he could see Sam's face looking at him worriedly. Dean stood up immediately in alarm.

"Sam? Sam is it you?" 'Sam' looked at him strangely.

"Sam?" He repeated, shaking his head. Not Sam then. "Jensen what's going on? Are you okay? Jesus man I was so worried. What did you do to Danneel?" He gestured out the hallway where she took her leave. What did  _he_ do?  _Dean_ wasn't the one doing the random kiss-raping groping thing, okay? Jared went over to him and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Misha told me you have amnesia. . . I was going to ask if you remembered me, but then you called me Sam, so I'm guessing you're still in that state." Dean rubbed his eyes, as though doing so would wipe the stress from his body.

"What did Misha tell you?" Jared shook his head.

"That you have amnesia of only you're entire life and are convinced you're Dean Winchester." Dean sighed.

"I  _am_ Dean Winchester. There was an accident in my world and I was sent here for some reason. I know  _who_ you are but I've never actually met you, you see? I know you married  _Ruby_." Dean looked at him funny. "Really dude,  _Ruby?_ "

"She's Genevieve." Jared said irritably. "And you're not  _Dean_ , Jensen."

"I am. You don't even have to believe me 'cause I'm leaving as soon as Sam and Cas get back to me." Jared walked over to him, looking at him sadly.

"Jensen _, you're not Dean Winchester_ ," Dean balled his fists,  _really_ not in the mood for an argument about this.

"Whatever man, believe what you want _._  I'll stay out of your way if you'll stay out of mine." Jared took Dean's fist in his hand and looked him straight in the eye. Dean tried to pull away but Jared was stronger and he held steadfast. Dean glared at Jared. "What the hell, dude?"

"If you're Dean, then what's your middle name?" Dean sighed in exasperation.

"Seriously?"

"Answer me." He demanded.

"It's—Well it's. . ." Dean searched his head, and for some reason that defied all logic, he couldn't remember it. It was like there was a blank space where his middle name should have been. His heartbeat started racing a mile a minute and he froze.

"You can't remember it, can you?" Dean was barely listening at this point. Middle name, Middle name. . . What was it? Why couldn't he remember his middle name? Sam-No, Jared shook him and forced Dean to look into his eyes. "You can't remember it? How about Sam's? What's his middle name? Your dad? Mary? You don't know because  _the writers never wrote them one_." Dean tore away from Jared's grip and stepped back, stumbling a bit. He couldn't believe it, but he couldn't remember any of their middle names and he was sure. . . Well, no. He couldn't remember ever being told but he didn't know why he wouldn't know. Dad surely would have told him, right? What was going on? Jared continued "What school did you go to? When did you lose your virginity? I'm betting these are questions you can't answer, huh?" Dean said nothing, his world shattering before him as he looked into Jared's unyielding eyes.

"I-I just forgot. . . It's insane but I freakin'  _forgot_!"  _No_ , he thought.  _No. This can't be real. I'm not an actor. I'm Dean Winchester. I've been Dean my whole life. I remember it all I—_

But then. . . Why were there so many gaps in his memory? He'd always just assumed it was a side-effect of being in hell or something but he could count on one hand how many good memories of his childhood he had. That wasn't normal. He knew life had been rough when he was a child; Growing up with his hunter dad and having to learn how to fire a gun at eight years old—but it can't have been  _that_  miserable. His dad had always kept them safe enough. . .

Didn't he?

John Winchester taught him how to survive in that world. Dean respected his dad for that, but suddenly he didn't know  _why_ he devoted so much time trying to live in his shadow. His dad, according to all of his memories, was never home, never there. Dean always took care of Sam and. . . Well fuck, why would Dean want to be like that?

Why couldn't he remember his own middle  _name_?

Everything he knew. Everything he  _thought_ he knew. . .

Jared looked away, looking uncomfortable. "I think you need to start considering that Castiel and Sam aren't coming for you." He said, softly. Dean's body started trembling without his permission and he didn't even feel his knees go out as he fell to the floor. He brought his hands to his face, as though feeling it for the first time.

A script. A television show? If it were true, his name wasn't even Dean, it was fucking  _Jensen._

Was this some kind of joke? Was somebody manipulating his thoughts? Why would he remember everything but his middle name? Could it be a dream that was produced by a djinn? But no, djinn didn't work like this.

Dean looked up and saw Misha looking on at him sadly from the doorway. The look on his face fostered terror in Dean's heart and for some reason he just  _knew_.

He literally wasn't going back to Kansas.

He stood up and shoved past Sam- _Jared_  and tried to push past Misha but they grabbed him. He struggled, trying to get away. He had to get out of here. He couldn't be in this room any longer. He couldn't handle their pitiful stares. His face was burning and his heart pounding so fast he thought he might have a heart attack.

_I'm not Dean Winchester._

_Sam._

_Cas_

_They don't exist._

_I don't exist._

Dean brought a shaky hand to Misha's face, caressing the stubble there softly. He let out a trembling breath as his world slipped away faster and faster. The stubble was wrong, the expression too human. He even had some sort of fragrance.

_He's gone._

"Dean?" Misha looked at him nervously, bringing up his own hand to cover the one on his cheek.

Dean didn't answer. If it was true, he couldn't even refer to himself as Dean anymore. What would he call himself in his head now? Misha shook his head, grabbing Dean's shoulders and looking him in the eyes.

"You're still Dean. You remember all that stuff I said about realities yesterday? That reality, the one you know it's still  _your_ reality. Until you remember your life as Jensen, you're still Dean." Dean couldn't even hear Misha anymore, he was so lost in his head.

"Can you guys just leave me alone for a bit?"

"Of course. Come on Jarhead,"

"Real mature," Jared said mockingly. They took their exit and left the door ajar as they went into the living area. Dean sat down on the bed and hung his head in his hands.

He could hear them start to argue through the door.

"That was uncalled for, Jared."

"Uncalled for? I thought making him aware of who he really is was the point of me being here, and why the hell are you calling him Dean?"

"He's lost, Jared. In his head, he's Dean, not Jensen. It's unhealthy for people not to have an identity."

"So you think it's healthy to pretend he's a character from a made up TV show?"

"I don't know anybody who's suffered amnesia like this before, but I know when people have complete memory loss, it's the loneliest and most terrifying experience for them. I can't think that it's right to take the only thing he knows away from him when he has nothing else. There's no point in pretending he's someone he can't even remember. When he gets his memories back, he'll just pick up where he left off and this will be something to laugh about, but right now, he is Dean and he's going through an extreme existential crisis right now and we need to support him."

"Jensen can't just go around with Dean in his head. That's a disaster waiting to happen."

"I think you're confusing amnesia with dissociative identity disorder. He's not suffering from conflicting personalities. He doesn't have Jensen inside of his head. He can't just  _learn_ how to be Jensen Ackles. Who else is he going to be until his memories come back?"

"I don't see why he has to be Dean Winchester, though. Why can't he just be Jensen Ackles with amnesia?"

"Because right now his mind is Dean and there's nothing we can do to change that. He's going to act and live like Dean regardless of what we call him, so we might as well call him for what he is. Also, I don't want him to do something stupid. If he's Dean and he feels hopeless with no support from us—Well you should know better than anyone what Winchesters do when they become hopeless. The word 'martyr' ringing any bells?"

Dean picked up the laptop on Misha's bed and opened it, deciding he didn't want to listen anymore. Apparently they forgot that he was still technically in the room. Also, it seemed that Misha didn't believe in passcodes because the laptop wasn't locked.

When he opened the internet, the first page he was taken to was some sort of Supernatural message board. There were discussions and posts all about the show, but at the top was a topic that read "Rumor: Jensen Ackles suffering severe amnesia. Supernatural to be put on long hiatus?" He clicked the link. Apparently it was simply a rumor with no hard evidence. He should know. They would ask before they told everybody about his  _amnesia_.

_It's sucks. Supernatural is my favorite show, but I hope Jensen is okay._

_Even the best actors aren't indestructible_

_Why do all the good shows have to get cancelled?_

Dean read more comments and they all said about the same thing. There were already hundreds of posts in this topic. It seemed that hundreds of people were in love with this show and very disappointed at the thought of a hiatus, or worse, a cancellation. He shut the laptop cover and stood up, making his way to the living area where Jared and Misha were still arguing.

If he couldn't have his life back, then he had to make the most of this one. He blocked out all the pain that was trying to climb up, because it wasn't convenient right now. If it was one thing Dean knew, it was how to ignore his emotions.

He pulled out his phone, fumbling around the interface for a moment before finding and scanning his contacts until he found "Kelly Bush". He pressed the number and held the phone to his ear. He hoped this was the correct 'Kelly."

"Jensen? Jensen what's going on? Are you okay?"

"Kelly, tell the media that Supernatural is going to air on schedule."

"What? But Jensen you just got out of the hospital! What about your memory? I was told you had amnesia!"

"I'm fine. Tell them I'm in perfect condition and ready to begin shooting, okay?"

"O-Okay? Okay! Um. . . Lemme just call Rachel and Robert and see where they stand on that. . ."

She hung up and Dean found himself looking up at the two horrified faces of Misha and Jared. He grinned, locking the phone and looking up at them. "Well, looks like I need to learn how to be Jensen Ackles by the end of this week. Let's get started?"

Dean had to grab onto any line he was thrown. If this was his life, he had to learn to live it. What if he got Jensen's memories back, and his life was turned upside down because Dean was too pussy to pick up the slack? No, he had to get things done and  _now._

If  _Supernatural_ was his life, then he would hold onto all he had left of it.

Misha glared at Jared in annoyance. "This is your fault,"

..::oOo::..

When they got to Jared's mansion—Dean knew it was Jared's since he'd been there before—the guys thought it would be a good idea for Dean to watch some interviews and shows featuring Jensen Ackles so he could get an idea of how the guy acted in real life. They dismissed the bodyguard dudes and set up in the home-theater room. It was like a mini movie-theater, only cooler. There was a large projector screen and leather recliners and couches lining the floor.

"Are you even sure about this?" Misha asked him, looking uncertain. "It would be easier to just wait until you get your memories back." Dean sighed.

"Wait how long? What if I never get them back? Jensen's— _My_  career sits idle and everything I've apparently worked for goes to shit. If it's one thing I can't do, it's sit around doing nothing. You might not be Castiel, but you should know me better than that." Misha grinned his lopsided smile and Dean felt his heart start to flutter. It was amazing how just seeing that smile had that kind of effect on him.

"I just hope you don't do more harm than good. . ." Jared said as he took a seat on the couch. "First thing you need to know is that Jensen is similar to you, only not so cranky. He's always fooling around." Jared supplied. "You've got all of that only you're always so angry. You're going to have to pretend your mother  _didn't_  burst into flames on the ceiling if you want to make everyone believe you're him."

"Piece of cake, right?" Dean said sarcastically, clapping his hands together. He plopped down on the red-leather couch. "Let's get some popcorn up in this bitch," He snapped his fingers.

..::oOo::..

Dean was already getting irritated because apparently Jared Padalecki was  _nothing_ like his little brother when it came to food. Jared managed to eat almost  _all_ of those cookies by himself that Deb had made. Dean was  _pretty_ damn sure those cookies were for him and Misha. Dean stared at him disapprovingly as the last chocolate chip cookie disappeared into the abyss that was Jared's stomach.

The Sam he knew would want to stretch out those cookies as long as he could and eventually Dean would have to eat them all before they got hard and gross. Dean sighed.

He wondered if it was normal to grieve the loss of a family you never even had. He still remembered everything about his fake life. There weren't any epiphanies like "Oh, right I'm an actor," no surge of memories coming back or anything convenient like that. He was still Dean Winchester, only it felt like Sam, Castiel, all of the people he'd ever loved or cared about were dead. Up until now, he'd refused to think about it, but as he realized how hopeless his situation was, it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Benny, Charlie. . .

His brother. . .

Cas. . .

And the sad thing was that they weren't even  _dead._ They just happened to never even have existed. It was all a dream. His entire life.

Right now, it sure sounded like the end one craptastic movie.

He'd fought tooth and nail all his life for. . .For what? For Sam? For Cas? God knows it wasn't for himself.

But now his reason. His life purpose was taken away.

What did he have to fight for now? What did Jensen Ackles fight for? He shook his head.

_Jensen, If you're somewhere in this noggin of yours, I could really use your help, bro._

Looking at the faces of Misha and Jared was painful—surreal, because it seemed like he was with Cas and Sam again. When they spoke, however, he was reminded that no. This was Jensen's life. They were  _Jensen's_  friends.

He couldn't just give Jared a hug. He couldn't just up and kiss Misha, demanding that he make him forget about all the pain. They weren't his people to love. His people were in a world that didn't exist. He thought he knew loneliness, but this was something else entirely.

This was torture.

"Jensen? Jensen are you okay?" Jared was watching him, his hand waving in front of Dean's face. Dean ignored the concerned glances being thrown his way. He looked up at his face on the screen. He was at a convention talking about filming a particular episode.

Rachel had called earlier, concerned about his decision to continue acting even in this state. He did his best to convince her that everything would be fine. He had Jared and Misha helping him out. He couldn't just quit his life. Who knew when Jensen's memories would come back? He had to make do with what he had.

The only problem was: How could Dean Winchester ever live up to Jensen Ackles?

Jensen Ross Ackles was an amazing man. There were so many interviews and specials concerning him. Not only did he act, but he was a musician too. He was a sports junkie, a model since he was a little kid and he was even planning to go to university for sports medicine at one point. Dean could never imagine being that talented. He didn't think he was wired that way.

Apparently he was.

"Is there anything?" Misha asked, concerned. "Do you remember any of this?" Dean looked at his—Jensen's face again, the way he joked and laughed. He was completely relaxed, like the weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders. He saw the way the man smiled like he hadn't spent 40 years in hell. The only person that made Dean smile like that was Castiel.

"Nothing. I'm still Dean," He clapped his hands together, standing and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Maybe I need a night to let all this junk sink in. Do you have a room I can crash in?" Jared stood up and nodded, clapping him on the shoulder in a firm grip. Dean stumbled a bit—Still a moose then.

At least some things never changed.

..::oOo::..

When he got to the bedroom, he noticed there was some luggage there—Jensen's stuff?

"Danneel had your handlers bring some of your stuff from the hotel. She said she would do it herself, but she wouldn't want to be  _inconvenienced._ I'm so confused. . . What did you  _do_ to her? She sounds so pissed."

"There's a reason why Dean Winchester isn't married, okay?" He said. Jared rolled his eyes. "Apparently Jensen has the same problem, though. Seriously, six years and they aren't married yet?" Jared looked sheepishly, as though apologizing for Jensen and Danneel.

"They're kind of on-again, off-again. . ."

"I see," Dean's eye landed on the guitar next to his bed. He went over and picked it up. It was a nice one—Gibson J-200. Dean may not play guitar, but he knew a good one when he saw it. "Apparently pissing off women is in my nature then." He picked up the guitar, sitting on the bed and plucking at the strings a bit. "Do you think I can really remember being Jensen Ackles?"

"Of course you will. Almost everybody with amnesia remembers their old lives." Dean gave him a false grin.

"Right, but you forget, for me, it doesn't even feel like I  _have_ amnesia. I have a life I still remember. I'm not just sitting here with an empty head. I still remember my brother Sam, our half-ass father and Castiel. . . the angel that pulled me out of hell. Not to mention hell.  _That_ was a carnival ride right there." Dean said, ruefully. His fingers trailed up and down the neck of the guitar as his other hand strummed it softly. He was dangerously close to getting all mopey again, but there was suddenly some acoustic led zeppelin playing that was calming his nerves.

"The real question, is whether or not you can really pretend to be Jensen Ackles? Are you sure you can do that? Dean Winchester isn't an actor."

"Dean Winchester can do anything he has to do. You forget, when I lived in hell I became a torturer." Swipe. "When I got out of it, I became a warrior of God." Swipe. Swipe. "I was more of a father to you—well Sam, at thirteen than John ever was. I'm like a jack of all trades. I was written by you guys, so you should know. Besides I should be able to handle playing  _myself._ " Swipe, swipe, swipe. "You know, I love that song—" Dean opened his eyes and noticed that Jared was just standing there, his arms crossed, a very Sam-like bitchface plastered onto him. He didn't have any instruments and it was then, Dean realized that the sound was coming from the guitar in his hands. His hands were  _playing_ that song.

He was playing guitar?

His fingers seemed to know what strings to hold down as his other hand strummed and created sound. Dean looked up at Jared like he'd grown a second head. "How am I doing this? I know  _nothing_ about playing music. I'm in the 'listening only' club." Jared grinned.

" _That_ is something called 'muscle memory'. Even if your mind doesn't remember playing music, your body does. It's like riding a bike. Once you learn, your body doesn't ever really forget. It's just like walking and talking. You do it enough so even though you stop thinking about it, you'll still do it. Jensen is a musician so it's second nature for him." Dean let out a breath, putting the guitar back on the ground.

"So, I really am Jensen Ackles, huh?"

"Apparently." Dean bit his lip.

"I don't remember him-me, whatever. I don't remember Danneel." He paused, wondering if he should even be talking about this or if it was couples' code not to. He found, quickly, that he didn't really care. "Danneel kissed me today."

"She did?"

"Yeah. . . Said something about physical touch triggering memories and junk." Dean sighed. "Thing is, she kissed me in a way that should have had me sweating but I didn't even react to it. It just made me uncomfortable like. . . It was awkward. She wasn't happy." He coughed, nervously. "That's weird right? I like women, Jensen obviously likes women, too. So. . . There's the whole muscle memory thing like you said, so I should have reacted, right?"

"That is kind of weird." Jared said, thoughtfully. "Maybe it's too soon for something like that?" Dean remembered almost salivating watching Misha Collins just  _stretching._ If he were having problems  _downstairs_ , he wouldn't have acted that way.

"I don't think that's the case. I don't have any problems. . . with  _that_." He was really uncomfortable talking about this with a man that looked exactly like his little brother Sammy.

"Well what about you? Maybe you're too preoccupied thinking about someone else?" Dean felt his face heat up and he realized he  _really_  didn't want to talk about this. He wasn't about to come out to this guy when he couldn't even tell Sam in his  _own_ world!

"Yeah, no. I don't know." Jared smirked, prancing (quite literally) into the room and plopping down onto the bed.

"Dean Winchester is in  _lurrrrve?!_ " Jared leaned in and scrutinized Dean with a big, shit-eating grin. Dean shoved him away.

"What?  _No_! Where do you even. . ." Jared cracked up laughing, hugging Dean's arm and refusing to let go. Dean sighed resignedly, looking down at the Sam-like imposter. "You know, you're completely different from my brother. You look just like him but you're so much weirder." He looked thoughtfully. "I never thought I'd say there was someone weirder than Sammy. Or more obnoxious. . ." Jared snuggled into Dean's side.

"You know, we may not be brothers by blood, but I've always got your back, okay? You're Jensen Ackles, now. You need to get used to relying on the people that love you." Dean rolled his eyes, grimacing.

"God, no wonder they cast you as Sam. If you say anything more girly than that I might actually vomit." Jared shoved him over and Dean shoved him back. They hit each other with pillows and it was the most childish thing, but it was okay. Dean felt like maybe the Sam in this world—Jared Padalecki wasn't all unlike his own Sam after all.

Much more of a pig, and more of a goof-off, but his heart was in the right place.

Suddenly there was shouting from downstairs.

"Kids it's time for bed! Don't make me come up there!" Misha said in a very mother-like voice. Jared snickered, pinning Dean to the bed.

"You heard Mom. Time for bed. Night Jen—Ah whatever, Dean. Maybe tonight I'll forego the goodnight kiss."

"Kiss?" Dean shivered in disgust, staring at Jared like he was an alien from another planet. Jared looked at him seriously.

"I thought Misha told you? We're sleeping together. Gen and Danneel don't know. Come to think of it, that's probably why you couldn't get it up when she kissed you. We've been doing this for about a year now." Dean felt his gut fill with ice, suddenly he was extremely aware of Jared's proximity.

Sleeping together? He and Sam in this world were  _fucking_?!

Moreover, Jensen was  _gay?!_

A bunch of very unwanted images flew through Deans mind, each more revolting than the last. He was caught somewhere between horrified and nauseated when he saw Jared's lip quirk. At that moment, something clicked in Dean's head.

Oh that sadistic sonovabitch.

Jared broke up in a fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, dude your face. You should see your face right now! I'm sorry, I just can't even. . .There are no words," Jared was overwhelmed by a fit of giggles.

"Oh, screw you man!" Dean shoved Jared off of him and stood up, his hands still shaking from the shock. Jared was still laughing.

"But your  _face!_ Pranking Dean Winchester is way more hilarious than pranking Jensen Ackles! Dean narrowed his eyes at the overly tall man.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. You can get the fuck out now."

Jared stood up and cupped Dean's face in his hands. "Goodnight, lover." He pecked the hunter smack dab on the lips and ducked away and out the door quickly to avoid the resulting punch. Dean had never felt so violated in his entire life.

_Jared Padalecki, everyone._

Dean sighed and flopped onto the bed, not even bothering taking off his clothes. He was too exhausted to even move. Not the physical kind of exhausted, the exhausted where your brain feels like a sticky puddle of goo and you're lucky if you can count to 20 kind of exhausted.

He looked up at the chestnut panel ceiling in this bedroom. This bedroom was so grandiose that he wondered what  _Jared_ 's room could possibly look like. There was an archway that lead to the bathroom and Dean couldn't see into it because it was too dark. The display on the alarm clock read 11:17pm, signaling that they'd been watching interviews and eating pizza and cookies nearly the entire day.

Dean's little exchange with Jared seemed to have cheered him up for a moment. It was nice to know, at the very least, that he wasn't alone in all of this. He wondered for a moment if he'd be able to do it by himself?

Yeah, probably not.

The thing was. He couldn't stop thinking about that prank.

_That's probably the reason why you couldn't get it up when she kissed you._

Between the guitar, the whole muscle memory business, the kiss with Danneel that felt like kissing a piece of over-excited cardboard; Dean thought that maybe Jensen wasn't who everybody might think he is. Shouldn't his body have reacted to Danneel? They'd been together for  _six years_ , and if that's not enough time to build up some muscle memory sexually, then he didn't know what was.

Dean knew he liked girls. He'd been enjoying the pleasures of women for most of his life now. That wasn't just about to go away from being with just one guy. He could stop himself from touching women, but he would still have reacted to Danneel's advance if it were purely on Dean's part.

But, that he couldn't even blush from it was the strange thing. Maybe he would do well not to think about this right now.

He turned on his side and breathed in the scent of fresh linen of the pillow—it reminded him that  _this_  was his reality now. Money, girlfriend, interviews—clean blankets and home-cooked meals. A world without Sam.

A world without  _Cas_.

He sighed, despair creeping up his neck once again as images of his brother and his angel fought their way to the forefront of his mind. He suddenly felt very alone.

Sleep wouldn't come easy that night.

Actually, it wouldn't come at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might seem like the story is moving a little fast, but worry not, the fun has only just begun. Think of these first few chapters as one big ol' prologue.
> 
> Reviews are love!


	5. Chapter 5

When Dean stumbled into the bathroom the next morning (feeling like death warmed over), He managed to haul his ass into the shower.

He couldn't help but notice that he was still very much Jensen Ackles and he was still in  _Canada_. Even though he was (very slowly) accepting that he wasn't going back, he still couldn't help but hold onto that  _little_ spark of hope that he'd wake up in a dingy motel with an anxious angel staring at him intently.

He didn't know if anybody in the house was awake. He knew if it were Sam, the man would still be sleeping. Cas would be awake because angels didn't sleep, but he had no clue with the  _actor_ versions. Dean stuffed down the emotions threatening to rise from the deafening silence filling his head as he tried to remember his middle name. While he was (not) sleeping he made a list of the things he didn't, but probably  _should_ have remembered.

He didn't remember even things children knew. He didn't know his favorite color (Though he supposed it would be red if he had to choose). He didn't have a favorite animal, a favorite juice. These were things everybody knew from the day they learned how to talk.

Important facts? He didn't remember learning to ride a bike. He didn't remember his first time masturbating. He didn't remember losing his v-card. He didn't even remember his shoe size.

Dean sighed as he stood under the scalding hot shower. He didn't know how long he stood there watching as the water swirled into the drain before he stepped out, wrapping a fluffy towel around his waist. Even if he were actually addicted to acid and on a bad trip, it would be preferable to all this crap.

As he was looking for a toothbrush, he noticed his beard growing at a phenomenal rate. Was this how fast Jensen's beard grew? It usually took Dean a few days to get it this thick. Or rather, he  _assumed_ it did. Now that Dean thought of it, he didn't really remember how long it took his beard to grow.

Either way, he didn't want to look like he just crawled out of a cave.

He looked down and saw some weird robot looking thing on the sink and then he realized it wasn't a robot. It was a shaver! Holy crap how much did  _that_ cost?

Now, was he supposed to shave wet or dry? He didn't know. He only ever used standard shavers. He looked around to see if there was any shaving cream around and he managed to find a thing of shaving gel in the cabinet.

After rubbing it in, he took the rotary shaver out of the holster thing (he didn't know what it  _was_  exactly) and pressed the 'on' button. The silent hum of the shaver was almost ominous and Dean smiled tightly.

To be honest he was a bit worried. What if he did it horribly wrong and managed to mangle Jensen's face right before he tried acting?

Well, he supposed he'd find out!

He pressed the thing carefully to his face and it made a horrible mechanical sound and Dean hastily pulled it away, inspecting it and seeing that it was still working. Maybe that was normal. He pressed it to his face again and gently ran it up and down his jaw. It seemed to be working which was definitely good news.

It took him a few minutes to get the hang of it, and by the time he was done, he had to admit that was definitely the closest shave he'd ever had. He admired himself in the mirror for a minute, deciding that he absolutely  _loved_  just how soft his skin was after that.

He had no idea how he was supposed to clean the thing, so he just dropped it into the sink and returned to the bedroom. He decided that was better than running it under water and destroying it beyond repair. He'd have to ask Jared about it later (and to see if he could possibly have it).

He dug through Jensen's clothes and found a dark wash pair of jeans and a red T-shirt with a printed "Superman" emblem on it. So Jensen was into comics? Was he actually a huge nerd too? Dean quickly dressed and looked at himself in the mirror. The clean face of Jensen Ackles stared back at him, the only face he'd known his entire life. There were slight bags under his eyes and his skin was a bit paler than he remembered.

He hadn't really done much sleeping, but Dean felt just as wide awake as ever. The bad thoughts seemed to have subsided for the moment, for which he was very grateful. He needed to put 110 percent into the lesson today. God knew he needed all the help he could get in this department.

Dean would be learning how to act today. He hoped it wouldn't be a repeat of his previous experience.

He threw on a black over-shirt, popping the collar and rolling up the sleeves before leaving the bedroom.

:oOo:

When he got downstairs he could definitely smell bacon. If it was one thing he was sure would never change no matter where or  _who_ he was, it was that baconliness would always be close to godliness.

Only for some reason the thought of eating  _anything_  was making him nauseas. And when a plate of eggs, potatoes and said bacon was pushed in front of his face, it was a wonder he didn't chuck his cookies just then. Jared's wide smile fell and he looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay, man?" Dean held his stomach for a moment, not daring to open his mouth too soon. He waved his hand in dismissal and when the wave of nausea was over, he spoke.

"Not much of an appetite this morning. Too many cookies last night, I think." He chuckled through the lie. He knew that wasn't the reason for it, but it would have to suffice. Jared narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but to Dean's relief, didn't push the matter. When Misha came stumbling through the doorway, Jared simply turned and shoved the breakfast in  _his_ face instead.

"Oh my god bacon. . ." Misha mumbled, his eyes not even open. Jared pulled the plate in one direction, and after seeing that Misha was following it, he proceeded to lead the man towards the kitchen via bacon smell. Dean followed them in, willing himself to keep it together.

"Still Dean?" Jared asked as he dished himself up a plate of breakfast. Dean sat down at the large oak table, avoiding the sight of all the food around him. Misha was calmly stuffing his face with bacon, seemingly not even aware of Dean's existence. Dean made a face before looking to Jared.

"Still Dean. . . Um, so acting today. Bright and early?"

"We'll start after your doctor's appointment." Jared said, digging into his food. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Doctor's appointment?" Dean inquired.

"Danneel called." He explained with a mouthful. "She said you missed your outpatient checks because you left unannounced. They need to make sure everything's working right."

"Well this is news to me. I think we can skip that. I haven't been to the doctor in  _years._ I'm pretty sure I can tell when something's not right." Jared raised a brow, giving him an unimpressed look.

"I'm pretty sure the writers never wrote a whole lot of physical self-awareness into your character, Dean. You're a real person now. Real people go to the doctor." Dean rolled his eyes. Suddenly he was looking into the brightest sunlit shade of blue and it brought a wave of nostalgia on that had him nearly toppling in his chair. Misha grinned.

"Oh right, Dean. How are you feeling today?" It seemed Misha had only just joined the party. How could one man's smile be so  _perfect_?

Dean remembered the feel of those lips against his, the scratch of that stubble on his jaw, those strong hands holding him close— _always so close._ Dean closed his eyes as pain and want burned hotly in his chest. How he wanted so badly to just reach out and touch this man in front of him, show him how much he meant to him. His mind suddenly was having a hard time processing that this man was  _not_ Castiel. No, Castiel wasn't going to kiss him in greeting and tell Dean he loved him. Misha Collins wouldn't do that. Dean tried shaking his head but that only caused another, much more violent wave of nausea to fill his senses. He covered his mouth and breathed through his nose deeply in and out.

"Are you okay?" Jared said in concern. "You look really sick." Dean didn't open his mouth because he really didn't want to be the reason breakfast was cancelled. Misha seemed to read what was going on and pressed a cup of water to his lips.

"Drink." He ordered and Dean obeyed. The nausea subsided a bit after he took a small drink of the water offered. He breathed in and out deeply. "I know it seems like eating is the last thing you want to do, but you need to balance your acid levels. Just nibble on some bread, okay?" Misha pressed a slice of bread into his hand and their eyes connected as Dean took a small bite of it, chewing carefully before swallowing, unable to say no for some reason. Misha's eyes were full of concern as he pressed their foreheads together. Dean felt chills run up his spine at the contact. He didn't realize just  _touching_ Misha would do this to him. He knew it was  _Misha_ but it was like he was Cas right now, his sense of personal space nonexistent. Dean needed this,  _craved_ it. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around Misha and never let him go.

And then there was the scent of watermelon and cinnamon coming from Misha that Dean's body seemed to agree with one-hundred percent. Cas didn't usually  _smell_ like anything, but if he did, Dean would imagine it'd be like this.

It was over all too soon. Misha pulled away.

"No, you don't have a fever. Are you feeling sick?" Dean shook his head.

"Been feeling pukey since I got out of bed, but nothing else."

"How did you sleep?" Jared asked.

"I've had better nights." Misha wore a tight smile.

"Coming from a Winchester, that must mean you barely slept at all." Dean suppressed a grin, trying not to love the fact that Misha knew him so well. "It's most likely the stress of this whole. . .  _situation_. The mind can only handle so much before the body starts to take some of the burden." Jared rubbed Dean's back soothingly. He wasn't really used to his brother being so touchy-feely with him but, then again, this wasn't his brother.

"Maybe the doctor will be able to give you some tips. For now why don't you rest before your driver gets here?" Said the excessively tall man. Dean nodded and found his way to the sitting room by the entrance to the house. He laid down on his side, careful not to move too quickly in fear of the nausea coming back. He realized he would be bored just sitting there and when he went to take out his phone (Jensen's phone), a white card fell out. Deb's 'business' card. It had her home and cell phone number printed. Maybe he should tell her what happened?

He didn't feel like talking but there was always texting for unsociable people like him.

' _So I'm an actor.'_

He sent, not quite sure how to start the conversation. It was a few minutes before she texted back:

' _You. . . are. . . But what do you mean?'_

' _I'm not Dean Winchester.'_

' _You have your memories back?'_

' _No'_

' _Oh. . . Ok. What?!'_

' _I don't have a middle name.'_

' _Right. . . So you're convinced? Do I call you Jensen, now?'_

' _I'm still Dean. Misha still calls me that.'_

' _Okay. Dean. But what are you going to do now?'_

' _Be an actor.'_

' _Crazy, but I like your spirit. Don't push yourself too hard, bro. I can only imagine how hard it is for you to know what you know now.'_

' _I can handle it.'_

' _Whatever you say. Take care okay? I'm going to work. Call or text whenever. Bye!"_

Okay that was the end of the list of people Dean knew in this world.

What was he going to do to fill up his time? He couldn't be a hunter (well the kind of hunting he was any  _good_ at). He couldn't hook up with a bunch of women like he used to do. Danneel would probably kill him. Not to mention, he wasn't really into sleeping with every big breasted Susan in town anymore.

He could work on cars? He liked working on his Impala. . . But he didn't have one anymore. He was an actor now, though. He could easily get one.

But would it really be okay to just have  _any_  old Impala? What would he do when it was running perfectly? Find a new car to work on? What would be the point of that?

He heard footsteps and turned to see Misha coming out of the kitchen.

"Sorry about earlier. I really don't take mornings well."

"Aren't actors like, immune to mornings?" Dean , watching as Misha picked up Dean's legs so that he could sit down on the end of the couch. What was even weirder was that he neatly placed Dean's legs onto his  _lap_  once he was settled. Was this something normal that he and Jensen did? Misha smiled.

"I'm happily in the minority. I plan to stay that way." Dean lifted a brow, conceding his point. "So how's your stomach?"

"Unpredictable. Right now it seems to be calm." Dean narrowed his eyes as Misha started massaging his feet. It felt. . . good, but it was still completely bizarre.

"Did you want me and Jared to come to the doctor with you?"

"I think I can manage a doctor's appointment by myself, thanks."

"Too bad! We're going anyways." Misha chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, Dean. You don't know what it's like to have close, intruding friends, do you?"

"Is it just me or are you enjoying this?" Dean asked, skeptically.

"Enjoying what?"

"Talking to me as Dean Winchester."

"Maybe a little. . ."

"Why are you massaging my feet?" Misha stopped, looking up.

"I didn't even think about it. . . But your feet are really soft!" Misha gently stroked his foot and Dean felt arousal tingle through his waist at the gesture. He bit his lip, feeling his face heat up. Misha continued the massage.

"W-Well it's nice. . . Thanks I guess." Suddenly when Misha's fingers started dancing on his sole, he shouted as it felt like someone stuck needles into all the nerves there. He jumped back in alarm, removing his foot quickly from Misha's attack. "What the fuck did you just do?!" Misha blinked up at him, confused.

"Nothing I must have tickled you by accident. . . Oh! You don't remember what tickling is like?!" Dean blinked, searching his memories for a time that he was tickled and he couldn't remember any. He knew tickling was common; Something everybody usually experienced, but he'd never once been tickled that he could remember. He shook his head slowly.

"I've never been tickled." Misha looked at him pitifully.

"You poor thing. . . The writers really left out the most important things, didn't they?"

"I don't want to be tickled if what you did is tickling. . ." Misha grinned slyly and suddenly started attacking his other foot with 'tickling'. Dean jumped back trying to evade him but Misha only lunged, pinning Dean to the couch as his hands found Dean's sides and started squeezing and running up and down. Without his permission, Dean started laughing and it was the strangest thing, laughing and giggling when you really felt like screaming. Misleading the other person into thinking that you're  _enjoying_ the assault.  _They should just tickle prisoners until they talk,_  Dean decided.  _It'd be more effective._

"St-Sto-hppp! stop M-Mi-hihi-Misha st-stah-hahaaha-STOP!"

"Misha, what are you doing to Jensen?" Suddenly he heard Jared's voice coming from the kitchen. Good, he was rescued! King Kong could easily apprehend Misha Collins.

"I'm educating him!" Dean had his hand pushing Misha's head away, but it wasn't doing much for his hands. Dean started to kick and flail, falling off of the couch. Jared looked annoyed for a minute before he shrugged in dismissal.

"Okay I'll help."

"No! NO stop! Suddenly there was a stronger pair of arms holding up his hands and pinning them above his head so that he couldn't get away. "Come on guys, really? Misha wait. . . Dude come on, you're better than this." Misha waggled his fingers ominously before Dean was subjected to fifteen minutes of torture before someone poked their head into the door.

"Um. . . Mr. Ackles' car is here." cautioned the young man, timidly. He obviously wasn't sure what to make of three grown men rolling around on the floor. Dean glared at the person, silently cursing him for leaving him alone with these two idiots for so long. If it had been any longer, Dean suspected he might have died. Suddenly he felt bad for all the children with tickle happy parents. It was abuse and now nobody could convince Dean otherwise.

:oOo:

"Jensen, talk to me." Misha implored, using that name because the driver shouldn't be aware that he was really Dean inside this head. Dean remained silent. " _Jensen please!_  Are you still mad about the tickling? I'm sorry, come on. . . I'll buy you pie after the doctors?"

"Apple with no ice cream. If there's ice cream I won't forgive you."  _Yes you will_. His subconscious insisted.

"I thought you  _liked_  ice cream on pie?" The driver piped up. Dean still couldn't remember his name. Dean grimaced.  _Ice cream on pie, Jensen? Really?_

"No ice cream.  _Ever_." He didn't care if he was supposed to be acting like Jensen. Ice cream on pie was an abomination that should never have existed.

When they got to the hospital. they checked in and Dean was surprised to see Danneel sitting in the chair in the waiting room. She stood up instantly, moving towards him but stepped back awkwardly as though she wasn't sure what to do. Did she want a hug or something? Dean supposed she did. Jensen  _was_ her fiancée after all.

And then here came the guilt. He grimaced. He still didn't feel  _anything_ for her. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear awkwardly, looking at the floor.

"I heard you were planning to start acting again? Are you—You still don't remember anything though, right? Are you sure you can do this?"

"I've got a lot of help here." He countered, pushing his hands into his pockets uncomfortably. "Misha and Jared are being really cool." Except for the tickling and invasion of his personal space. . .

"But don't you think you should just focus on getting your memories back? This is kind of a hasty decision, isn't it?" Dean narrowed his eyes, really not feeling like fighting with a girl he barely even knew. Misha stepped besides him.

"I think if Jensen thinks he's up to it, we should trust him, right?" Danneel nodded, picking up her purse.

"Well if you think you're okay. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Do-Do you want me to be with you when you see the doctor?" Dean probably should have said yes. Definitely he should have but he didn't.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be okay." The look on her face was so very  _sad_  that Dean was about to take it back but Misha put his hand on his arm to stop him. Dean looked at him in question as she nodded and walked out. When she was safely out of hearing distance, Misha turned to him.

"I think you need to tell your doctor about what's  _really_  going on. I don't think you should tell Danneel that quite yet." Dean nodded, taking the seat that Danneel had been sitting in. Jared sat next to him on one side, Misha on the other.

"Doctors are sworn by law not to tell your stuff or something, right? Confidentiality or whatever?"

"Yeah. They can't say anything that you discuss with them to anybody unless they're immediate family and your life is in danger." Dean nodded and a nurse came out.

"Jensen?" Dean got up to follow her and was surprised to find that both men decided to follow him. He blushed slightly. He wasn't a little kid. These guys. . .

After they took his weight and height, they were lead to an office area with one of those clinic tables. The nurse took his vitals and inspected the trauma site on his head. Dean was happy to hear that it was healed nicely and he didn't really have to worry about too much scarring (it was covered by his hair anyways). She made sure his vision was working properly and his speech. He was in pretty good shape overall. When she left, she said they would have to wait for the doctor.

They sat in the doctor's office for a few minutes. Dean learned that Genevieve (aka Ruby) had been really busy with her Charity organizations and wouldn't be home much. They would all stay at Jared's house while "Operation FDA" (Fix Dean's Acting) was underway. After a while, Jared announced that he 'Needed to pee  _now_ or he would end up flooding the room' and left. Misha stood up and started looking around, seeing a stethoscope hung up by the table. He took it off and put it around his neck.

"What are you doing, Misha?" Dean asked. Misha turned and waggled his eyebrows.

"That's  _Dr. Collins_  to you." Dean rolled his eyes. Child. Definitely a child. Misha pouted, standing in front of him. "You don't want to play Doctor, Dean?" Misha stepped closer, pressing the scope to his chest. Dean blinked, feeling his breath fall short as Misha was about an inch from pressing against his body now. The hunter gripped the table as his lips went dry and his body heated up with want. Suddenly  _Dr. Collins_  seemed like a very good idea, but his mouth failed to articulate his feelings. He froze as Misha's eyes scrutinized his face and their eyes connected and he looked  _so_ much like Castiel— _his_  Cas.

"Good morning, I'm—" The door opened and in stepped a man in a white coat, staring at the situation with an eyebrow raised and suddenly Dean felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Misha stepped away and hastily put the stethoscope back on the wall.

"Just making sure the equipment is working right." He lied, chuckling nervously.

"I'm sure. . . Anyways I'm Dr. Nathan P. Montague. I was your physician during your three week stay here. You probably don't remember me." Dean shook his head and took his hand, shaking it briefly. "You were in pretty bad shape when you were admitted." The doctor moved around and took a look at his head. "The surgeons stitched you up nicely. No tearing or irritation to the wound. No festering. It was a bit reckless leaving before you were discharged. You could have brain damage and we wouldn't even have known it."

"About that. I haven't exactly been truthful about my memories."

"Oh?"

"It was hard to talk in front of Danneel and the rest, but since I woke up I've been Dean Winchester which is apparently only a character in a TV show. I have all of my memories as Dean but zero as Jensen Ackles. I don't even know who the guy is. In my head, I  _am_ Dean." The doctor quirked a brow, writing something on his clipboard before speaking again.

"Dean Winchester? He's a character from a TV show?"

"Our TV show. Supernatural, to be precise." Misha added. We're actors, as you already know. Dean Winchester is the character Jensen plays on our series."

"And you've woken up in that persona? There is absolutely no recollection of Jensen Ackles, only Dean? The nurse said you knew your name when you woke up." Dean nodded.

"When I woke up I was convinced I was simply stuck in this reality,  _again_."

"Again?" The doctor looked very confused. Dean looked at Misha, willing him to explain and Misha nodded.

"In an episode of the series, Dean and Sam, his brother were transported to a different reality where they were actually the real actors Jensen and Jared. They were literally 'stuck' in the real world reality. The little knowledge ' _Dean_ ' here has of this world comes from that episode. He thought the only explanation was that it had happened again and it was a bitch to convince him otherwise."

"So how do you know you simply aren't just 'stuck' here waiting to be brought back to your world?" The doctor asked.

"Sam and Cas would have been here by now if it were only temporary. Also there's the little fact that I don't remember ever being told my middle name." Suddenly the door opened and Jared came in. "Who are you?" Jared took a seat by Misha.

"I'm the father." Jared took Misha's hand and Misha smiled lovingly at him. Dean tried his hardest not to crack up when the Doctor looked at them like they were from another planet.

". . .Dean Winchester, was it?" The doctor asked, choosing to pretend that didn't happen. Dean nodded. "They never wrote a middle name for this character?" He asked Misha.

"None of the characters of Supernatural have middle names. Also Dean had never been tickled before today. . . Then again that could just be the fault of Dean's negligent father." Dean glared at Misha but didn't bother arguing. John wasn't the cuddly kind of dad. That much was true.

"And you remember being Dean Winchester as though you were him your entire life?"

"I have solid memories of the last 10 years, but everything before that is a bit broken."

"The show took place about 10 years ago." Jared added.

The doctor scribbled on his clipboard some more before looking up again.

"So you're Jensen Ackles stuck in acting mode? I don't know the series but it's got to be surreal to see a character literally brought to life?"

"He's still Jensen, though. He needs to be Jensen, not Dean. He has a life he needs to live." Jared insisted.

"Yes but he has amnesia—The most interesting form of amnesia I've ever encountered but it's still just that. Have you had any headaches or nausea since you escaped the hospital?" Dean blushed, feeling like he was suddenly being scolded. He didn't really feel like telling the doctor anything now. Misha looked at him curiously.

"Are you going to tell him, or should I?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"I had some nausea this morning but it's gone now."

"Well, this is probably a very emotionally traumatic experience for you. It's probably just the stress but we'll do an MRI to make sure everything's looking okay in your old noggin there. As for amnesia, memories will generally come back by themselves if they want to."

"What do you mean if they want to?" Dean demanded.

"Well you seem to be well enough as Dean so perhaps Jensen doesn't see any reason to come back." Dean bit his lip, trying to hide the strange mixture of hope and despair in his heart. On one hand, he wanted so badly to stay Dean Winchester. It was his life and it was all he knew, all he ever knew and to suddenly have that taken away—To stop existing like Cas and Sam did. . . Well that was the scariest thing in the world. At the same time he welcomed the idea of Jensen returning to his mind because Dean felt too alone here. Wouldn't it be better if he just let him have it back? "Tell me, what are your plans while you continue your recovery?"

"Dean is going to be continuing Jensen's career as an actor for the show." Jared explained. Dean glared at him, not wanting to hear the doctor say he wasn't allowed to do it.

"Oh really? Does he know how to act?"  _No, he does_ not _know how to act._

"He'll have the best coaches in town." Misha insisted.

"Well I must say it's bold. I don't know how well that will work out for you, but I hope for the best. If you want your memories as Jensen to return, you'll have to do everything you can to integrate yourself into his life, so perhaps this will help you. Try to avoid making too many new. . . umm. . ." He looked to Misha. " _Relationships_ , until your memories start coming back. You don't need to complicate things any more than they already are."

"Co-worker. . . He's my co-worker" Dean insisted remembering the Dr. Collins incident and feeling slightly mortified. Misha seemed completely oblivious. Bastard. The doctor looked extremely skeptical and stood up with his clip board.

"Well I suggest you get in touch with a therapist. A part of your amnesia may be completely psychological. Find out why Jensen chose Dean to identify with and perhaps you'll be closer to finding your way back to him."

"Right." Yeah no shrinks for Dean Winchester. That was the  _last_ thing he needed right now. He would figure this crap out on his own. That was the Winchester way and he'd be damned if he would start relying on therapists now.

"Your. . .  _girlfriend_ " He looked to Misha accusingly again. "had scheduled an MRI for today. If you want to just make your way to the lab part of the hospital, they can get it done quickly and you'll be on your way." They each shook his hand in turn. Dean looked at him.

"Please keep all of this under wraps okay? I don't want anybody else knowing about this."

"Of course. Have a good day."

:oOo:

They walked out of the hospital, Dean flanked on both sides by Misha and Jared. Dean was sure he didn't ever want to do an 'MRI' ever again. It was like being stuck into a giant donut hole. Dean thought it might have been cool but it was actually a bit freaky so he wrote MRI's on his list of things to never do again. He hoped it came back clear. The doctor said he'd have to do it again if there was anything out of the ordinary.

"You so owe me pie." Misha bowed in front of him dramatically.

"Yes, yes master. I'll buy a whole pie from your favorite bakery and we'll take it home. You can even eat all of it by yourself."

"So now you're trying to get me fat? Typical." Dean strode ahead of Misha with his nose in the air, marching off in front of the two men.

"But  _Deannn,_  I'm trying to earn your forgiveness!"

"Then grovel better, Jesus. And that's Dean  _sir_  to you." Dean grinned as Misha dragged himself behind him. He could get used to having a minion.

:oOo:

_The light on the doors starts flashing again._

"Oh now what?" Dean demanded, not quite sure where to look. Misha walked up to him, looking completely like Castiel sans trench coat. Dean watched him in wonder for a moment before remembering that it was still his turn to speak. "Cas?"

"Is this another trick?" Jared said, wearing his 'I'm confused Sam' face.

"It's me. Uh, what are you doing here?" Misha queried, his voice gravelly and completely Castiel and Dean suddenly felt his heart thump wildly. Casti- _Misha_ looked at him expectantly, raising his eyebrow. Dean jumped and picked up his paper, reading his line before he continued.

"Us? What are you doing here?" He cringed as he heard how monotone his voice was as he spoke but he was just so distracted.

" _Cut!_ " Jared bellowed dramatically. Dean rolled his eyes. "What are  _you_  doing here." Jared corrected. "And look at him when you speak." Dean nodded, feeling his face heat up. He was so nervous.

"What are  _you_ doing here?" Dean emphasized, looking into Misha's eyes. Misha smiled and stepped forward.

"When you're acting, you have to get into the characters mind."

"You mean mine?" Dean scoffed, still not liking being dismissed as simply a character even though he knew he was just that.

"Well. . . Yes. But play this situation as you remember it. You were genuinely confused, right? Act that way. Act like this whole thing is completely insane. Also maybe some sound cues will help you out. Turn around!" Dean nodded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"From the top!" Jared shouted.  _BANG_.

"Oh now what?" Dean demanded, the line on his lips and seeming very appropriate to say as he turned around to inspect the noise. Castiel, having shoved over the chair, walked towards him, that brooding gaze on his face. Dean felt his heart nearly miss a beat because it was like he was seeing Castiel finally after these past couple days. "Cas. . ." He breathed.

"Is this another trick?" Dean looked over to Jared and felt his throat get tight. The confusion in his eyebrows, that familiar head-tilt when he didn't understand something. Too similar.

"It's me. What are you doing here?" Misha's voice cut deep into Dean's senses like a sharp knife and energy started to buzz inside of his skin. Right now this wasn't Misha. This was Castiel.

"Us? What are  _you_  doing here?" Dean remarked, the words on his lips before he could stop it.

"Looking for you. You've been missing for days." Days? Really?

"So get us the hell out of here, then!" Sam raised a brow expectantly.

"Let's go."

"And cut." Dean went closer, unable to tear his gaze away from Cas.

"Dean?" He questioned, his voice a bit higher than usual. Was he okay? Was he hurt? "You okay bro?" Dean narrowed his eyes and suddenly felt like he was pulled out of a bucket of ice water. He shook his head. Not Cas. Cas didn't say 'bro'. Misha. Right.

"Misha." He repeated verbally, his voice grew hoarse and he felt that familiar burning sensation in his eyes. He looked at Jared. He was too similar. This man was definitely like Sam. The actor didn't need to change his voice or much of his attitude to act like him. Misha though. . . Misha could turn Cas on and off like a light. Misha raised an eyebrow.

"Is everything okay?" Dean stared at Misha, drawing his eyebrows together. This wasn't Castiel. It never  _would_ be Castiel. It was so unreal seeing Misha and Jared act perfectly like the angel and the brother he knew  _so_ well only to become completely different people in the next instant. He'd seen it before but this time it was different.

He would never see Sam or Castiel again.

"Are you. . . Crying?" Dean felt hot liquid slide down his cheek and he rubbed his eyes frantically, taking a deep breath.

"I can't do it." He said flatly. Jared drew his eyebrows together.

"But that take was perfect. What are you talki—"

" _I can't do it!"_  He shouted, shoving past Misha and raced up the stairs. He needed to get away. He didn't want to live like this. He didn't want to see their faces when he knew he would never see the real thing— _his_ real thing ever again

He clumsily scanned his contacts and once he found her hit the 'call' button.

"Hello?" Deb greeted in a chirpy manner.

" _Deb I gotta get out of here I can't take it—"_

"Heyyyy hold on there. What's wrong?"

"When I act with them I see  _them!_  I see Castiel and Sam and it's like if I reach out I could grab them but it's a lie because they're _not_ them. They'll  _never_ be them!" He paused, willing his tears away and trying to calm down. When he spoke, his voice was foreign and tight with emotion. "How did I think I could do this?!"

"Because you have nothing better to do." She explained simply. Dean paused, shutting the door behind him.

" _What?_ "

"What are you going to do if you don't act?"

"I don't want to live here—"

"What will you do? Live in Texas with your girlfriend you don't even love?"

"What if this is an elaborate djinn dream and I'm just a head shot away from being free?"

"If it isn't?"

"I don't know these guys. I don't know this  _world._ "

"Dean remember when you were in hell?"

"How could I fucking forget?"

"Remember the smile you wore after Sam was sent to hell? Castiel was nowhere to be found and all you had was Lisa and Ben? You lost both of them and you continued to live on?"

"Y-Yeah but Lisa and Ben weren't walking around wearing Sam and Cas's faces!"

"It didn't matter. You didn't want to live that kind of life, you didn't think you were cut for that, but you did it because  _Sam_ wanted you to live your life to the fullest and you know damn well this isn't a Djinn dream. Would Sam want you to just give up?"

"Sam doesn't fucking  _exist_!" He yelled into the receiver, feeling tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. There was a pause and her voice was soft.

"He exists in  _you_  and right now that's all you've got. Sam would tell you to do this. Sam would want you to live."

"I would rather be in the pit for another 40 years than do this by myself."

"But you're  _not_ alone. You have me and Jared and Misha. We all want to help you and maybe someday you'll remember this world. But for now you have to fight because you need to  _believe_ that there's a reason for all of this. There's a reason that Dean Winchester is needed and not Jensen Ackles." Deb paused for a moment. "I know you're probably feeling shitty right now but you need to desensitize. You know how to do that. Expose yourself to the problem. I suggest actually  _watching_  the show. Watch season five and have a good cry. Eventually it won't hurt so much."

"Whatever." Dean hung up, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. She had a point.

While Jared went out to buy something for dinner and Misha was on the phone with someone, Dean used that time to hunt for DVDs of past seasons. When he found the Season five box set, he went back up to his room and popped the disc into the player. He had no idea what part of his life Season 5 was about, but he figured Deb knew what she was talking about. He gently lay down on the bed and watched as he and his brother appeared on screen.

It was weird, watching his life from a third person's point of view. He couldn't fully grasp the idea that this was Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki simply  _acting_ like the Winchester brothers. The amount of emotion he could see on his and his brother's face, the tears and the pain. It was all so real to him, but at the same time it was all faked. It was their job and nothing more. Dean shook his head. These guys were really good actors.

As the recap depicted the events that led up to the rising of Lucifer, he could see how he met Castiel. Dean had been so disoriented at the time. He remembered it well. He hadn't had a clue what was happening. His ears had felt like they were about to burst and his heart had been about to jump out of his chest. It was at this time that he was made aware of angels and heaven. Now he wondered if any of that even existed.

Like, he wondered, if there was a Castiel in heaven somewhere.

:oOo:

Misha Collins made his way upstairs to tell Dean that dinner was ready and make sure he was okay (He'd heard the yelling and decided to leave him alone for a bit), but stopped when he heard muffled sobbing coming from the bedroom. He entered quickly, seeing Dean buried in a mountain of pillows with various tissues littering the floor in front of him as he watched what was apparently Supernatural on the television. It seemed to be of the last episodes of Season five and his mind connected the dots and immediately he went to Dean.

"Why did you skip to the most emotionally charged part of the season, Dean? Are you trying to emo yourself to death?"

"But  _Sam_! Sam was so  _strong_ and he went through all that shit that I never even saw and I treated him like  _shit!_ Honestly why do I have to be such a dick sometimes?!"

"Dean you were hurt. . . Sam gave you no reason to trust him."

"He's my  _brother,_ Misha. I should have trusted him no matter what."

"Not all brothers are trustworthy though. Sam did a lot of things to compromise your trust. You did nothing wrong." Dean said nothing, facing the TV again as Sam started to wrestle control back from Lucifer.

"I should have been there for him. . . I never should have abandoned him. He went to hell because he was trying to earn my trust again. He went to hell because of  _me_." Misha sat down on the bed and made Dean look into his eyes. Dean knew his face was red and tear-streaked, but he didn't have the energy or the mental willpower to care at the moment.

"He didn't go to hell  _because_ of you, Dean. He went to hell  _for_ you. He loved you more than anything." Dean felt a tear escape his eyes. He shook his head.

"You guys are fucking amazing actors. It's like I'm just watching a movie of my own life."

"Well it kind of  _is_ , but thanks. Now why are you sitting alone in the dark trying to cry yourself into oblivion?"

"Acting today. . . I had some issues."

"You were doing great though. The last take was really good."

"But I—I just couldn't do it and not remember every vivid detail. This way. . . maybe if I watch enough of this crap," he gestured to the TV. "maybe after a while it will stop being so shitty."

"Well you can  _do_ that, but what had you convinced you had to do it alone?" Dean shrugged.

"I've never worked through emotional shit with anybody but myself. Why would I start now?"

"I told you, you have two friends that won't let you cry alone. We're not your brother, so you don't have to look strong for us." Dean tried to glare but honestly, he didn't have it in him. he sighed.

"Well, if you're going to be here, you could at least get me some damn ice cream."

"Ice cream is a great idea! But first maybe we should eat real food? I mean, Jared's been slaving over a hot stove. . ." Dean groaned.

"We can eat it here." Dean looked away, trying to hide the growing blush on his face. He didn't know how else to say he just wanted to watch this show with these guys. He didn't really like the thought of watching it alone anymore. He  _didn't_ need to do it alone and he supposed that was the nicest thing ever.

"As you wish, princess." Misha got up and shouted from the door. "Jared we're having a Supernatural slumber party upstairs. You're invited, but we require you to bring sustenance!"

"I'm not your fucking  _maid_ , Misha! This is  _my_ house!"

"And you're supposed to serve us!"

"I didn't even say  _you_  could stay here!"

"Too late. No backsies!"

"There's nothing to backsie. . . back!"

" _Just bring food!"_

Dean smiled slightly at the exchange. These guys were crazy but they were alright. Dean jumped when he felt his pocket start vibrating. He pulled out his phone and the display read "Mom and Dad". He answered it without thinking and held it to his ear.

"H-hello?"

"Jensen? Jensen are you okay? It's mom."

"M-Mom?" His heart clenched tightly and he thought for a second about Mary Winchester before he realized that this was definitely not her. This was Jensen's mom.

"Your dad and I are flying to Vancouver tomorrow. We visited while you were in the hospital but your dad had some business to take care of so we had to go back to Texas. We just found out you woke up. "

"Um. . ."

"Oh, dear, you probably don't even remember, me. I'm sorry sweetie, don't worry about it. We can get to know each other when we get there, alright?" Dean closed his slackened mouth.

"R-Right okay."

"Are you still at Jared's?"

"Yeah."

"Well we'll stop by tomorrow and catch up. I can't wait to see you. Love you sweetheart." The line went dead shortly after that and Dean just stared at the phone. Misha looked at him curiously.

"Your parents?" Misha asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Flying in tomorrow." Dean looked determinedly at his phone. He wasn't used to having so many people in his life. People that gave a shit about him. That lady sounded really nice, though. "I don't even know her name." He admitted dryly. Misha frowned, patting him on the back.

"It's okay, though. Your mom's really cool. She makes a mean shepherd's pie too. . . Maybe she'll cook for us!" Dean suddenly felt his stomach fill with nerves.

Jensen had parents. Parents equaled expectations. What was that woman going to expect from him? And Jensen's  _dad_? What was  _he_ like? Was he anything like John? Dean couldn't be like their son because he had no idea who their son was. What if he disappointed them?

Dean sighed. He knew he didn't need to feel pressured. It wasn't  _his_ fault that Jensen had amnesia, but he also felt a sense of responsibility for representing Jensen like this. Subconsciously he wanted to make those people proud of him and he didn't even know why.

Dean wondered if he had what it took to be part of the Ackles' family.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean liked to think himself a man of control.

As much as he liked sex, he spent 40 deleted years in hell suppressing his sexuality and more often than not he had close calls but not once did he give in to Alastair or any demon's abuse. Dean had never budged an inch, even when they roused him out of a pain induced slumber with deceptive, gentle touches—much like what was currently happening in the too-soft bed he was currently sleeping in-

Much like the hot body pressed tight against him from head to toe, warm breath on his neck and hands wandering everywhere. Dean bit his lip when he heard his lover's rough, aroused voice muttering in his ear. Dean wasn't quite sure what he was saying but he sounded pretty sexual.

He groaned though his teeth as Castiel's hip was quite effectively waking up his cock. The hunter sighed, rubbing back, lifting his leg and giving the angel better access. He felt Cas's breath against his neck become heavy as they moved, grinding like a couple of horny teens but it felt so fucking good.

Cas was sleeping. . . That was weird. Cas rarely ever slept since he became an angel again but Dean wasn't going to complain—Especially since that hot mouth had attached itself to his neck and he sure did like it when Cas did that.

"Baby, come on. . . I wanna feel you. . ." Dean whined and shifted, allowing Cas to move between his legs. He closed his eyes, just enjoying the feel of Cas against his body. He could feel the angel's cock press deliciously against his own and Dean let out a moan, his hands finding the curve of Castiel's perfect ass and squeezing, pressing him closer. Dean rolled his hips just the way he knew Cas liked it. Cas let out a sexy little moan against his throat that sent shivers down the Winchester's spine 'cause it wasn't as deep as it usually was. . .

He opened his eyes and took a good look around the room and for the first time since he woke up, he realized why the bed was too soft.

He cursed under his breath and stopped moving, panic rising in his chest because this was Misha fucking Collins humping him like a dog in heat.

The situation had the potential to become awkward very fast and Dean swallowed, biting his lip when he felt Misha thrust harder against him, grinding his cock into Dean and moaning into his ear with that gravelly voice of his.

Suddenly a pang of guilt jolted him and his mind kept trying to remind him that he was forgetting something very important but he had no time to think about it. Dean didn't know the last time Jensen got some but from the way his cock was twitching in his pants, he could tell it'd been a while. It wouldn't take long for him to cum at his rate. He couldn't bring himself to simply wake Misha up.

And the sounds the man was making, the low rumbling moans in the back of his throat were so fucking hot. Dean reveled in the feel of that hot tongue licking every inch of skin it could find. Dean's fingers curled tightly into the sheets. His cock was twitching excitedly in his pants at finally getting some much-needed attention and he couldn't control the motion of his hips and it was all so much.

He wanted to stop. He knew letting his dick make the decisions was a bad idea but fuck if he wasn't too far gone by now to think about anything but getting off.

Dean was making a mess in his pants, but it didn't matter 'cause it would just be an even bigger mess soon. The way that hot mouth licked and sucked on his neck, the feel of Misha's hard dick grinding against his, it was bringing the hunter so fucking close he could almost taste it. He was going to cum like a bitch, open and begging for it and he wondered for a brief moment if Misha would like that. Would he find Dean sexy? He did his best to bite back his moans at the unbidden thoughts entered his mind, not wanting to wake the actor, but it was hard. He couldn't hold on anymore and before he knew it, Misha was looking at him straight in the eyes, his expression still drowsy but hunger burned hotly in his ever-thinning blue irises. Misha raked his eyes down Dean's form once before settling back onto his face. He started thrusting again, harder this time and driving Dean crazy. And shit if this wasn't messed up as fuck but he was getting off on the thrill of doing it with the man who looked just like Cas but wasn't and before he knew it that tightly wound cord snapped and it sent him flying.

Dean moaned and ground their hips together tightly, making a mess of his boxers while his face burned under the watch of the actor above him. He noted the uncomfortable feeling of his cum sliding down his leg, making his pants stick to him in the most unwanted way as Misha panted harshly against Dean's neck as his thrusts grew more wild. It wasn't long before the man was cumming too, jerking as his hands fisted the sheets beneath them

The man collapsed on top of Dean and panted his way through his post-orgasm high. It was about a minute of him looking around aimlessly before Misha realized where he was.

"Well this is awkward." He quipped, his voice like a fucking dirt road dragging Dean down it on full speed because he sounded so much like Cas just then. Dean quirked up his lip, shrugging slightly and voicelessly saying 'just a little bit.'

"Must have been an exciting dream." Dean wondered aloud, providing an out for Misha to take. Misha's eyes lingered on Dean for a moment before he spoke.

"Funny how these things work. . . I only remember seeing your face when I woke up." Dean blushed and Misha smirked mischievously. Misha obviously didn't understand awkward-avoidance tactics. It was just like how Cas was when they'd first started getting physical, only now he had this man that was definitely not Castiel even though they shared the same face and he was smirking at him lecherously. Misha was somehow ignoring self-preservation and welcoming the embarrassing situation.

Dean couldn't even tell if he was serious or not and he quickly decided he didn't even want to know right now. Instead, he opted for smacking him hard with the pillow instead, almost sending Misha's sleep lagged body tumbling to the floor. Dean stumbled out of bed, legs like jelly after such a powerful orgasm but he still managed to glare before making his way to the bathroom, grabbing his suitcase in the process. He didn't know if Misha would still be there by the time he came out, but he didn't want to take any chances.

::

"Whoa tiger, I can feel the effect of you being around that busty security guard and I understand if you can't get her out of your head, but dude we're in tight quarters here." Dean said, shifting his body out of direct contact of Castiel's hard-on. Man, that angel must have been packing some serious heat 'cause there was no escape from it. They'd been exploring a military base and had attracted too much attention by not having the proper ID's and decided to hide in a tight storage closet.

"I think you've misunderstood. I've only been thinking about you for the past half hour we've been stuck in here." Dean turned scarlet, looking back into Castiel's eyes, the pupils all but swallowing his bright blue irises whole. It was at that moment that Dean knew he was in a world of trouble. The feel of Cas's dick pressed against his ass should have freaked him out beyond help but there he was, his blood rushing south and growing like he was 13 all over again.

Over the past few weeks Castiel had grown almost uncomfortably close to him. Since he finally got his mojo back, everybody assumed he would grow out of the cuddling and the constant touching he required, and damn it all to hell if Dean didn't want him touching anybody else. He didn't know why he felt that way, he just did. So what if it was basically chick-repellent at bars or Sam looking at him funny? Didn't mean Dean had to explain it. If he was lucky he could get away with Sam thinking it was Cas that preferred touching Dean over everybody else, which essentially he did so it wasn't really lying.

He would just keep it under wraps that as a reaction to Cas's suggestion that he just cuddle with Sam instead, Dean vehemently insisted that Cas remained his exclusive cuddle buddy instead of the alternative that left a horrible taste in his mouth.

So when had they started blurring the lines between comfortably close and awkwardly close? Dean would sometimes find himself rubbing circles into Cas's skin, rubbing his knee idly, or hugging him close when memories of hell tried to creep back into his mind. It was subconscious at first, but Dean quickly understood the habits forming and started anticipating them.

He'd tried to fight them, but he longed for the comforting feeling he got when touching Cas and the angel was anything if not willing so why the hell should he stop? As long as he could keep it to a healthy minimum in the presence of Sam, he would be fine.

In retrospect, he supposed he could have read a little deeper into Cas's reaction on the matter—Into his own feelings on the matter, because now puffs of hot breath were tickling his neck and exploratory fingers trailed his sides. He moaned when he felt Cas's dick press tighter against his ass and fuck if he wasn't digging it.

Dean recalled lying in bed with Cas who'd been tracing Enochian letters into the crease of Dean's hip bone, dangerously close to his groin. Why didn't Dean stop him then? He didn't know. . . It felt good and tingly, Cas was happy and he was sleepy. He didn't have time to be all macho about his sexuality. Why would he break the peace like that?

They'd continued after that, Cas's touches becoming bolder and Dean growing bolder too. Dean would rub soothing circles behind Cas's ear sometimes when the angel was agitated by the drama in heaven. The first time he'd done it, Castiel had insisted it wouldn't do anything for him because he was angel. Of course, he said that the moment before his Grace started humming excitedly under Dean's fingertips and Castiel relaxed into his touch like a sated cat. Dean smirked, liking that he could wring such a reaction from him and continued comforting Cas with similar motions late into the night.

So when they started sleeping flush back to stomach together, Dean should have known problems would proverbially 'arise' subconsciously or not. Dean was still a man and Castiel, though refueled with Grace, would still fall privy to the sexual tendencies he'd had as a human.

It didn't help that Castiel was now rubbing his nose into the back of Dean's neck, a habit the angel had been forming while they'd cuddle. Dean hadn't realized the innocent gesture could be debauched so thoroughly simply because a couple boners and a tight closet were involved. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt those surprisingly soft lips against his skin as Cas nuzzled into his hair, breathing deeply the scent of the Winchester's shampoo.

"You are crossing so many boundaries right now, man." Dean ground out, more breathlessly than he was aiming for. Was Cas seriously getting off on his scent? He felt a chill run down his body when Cas spoke, his voice rough and so full of sex that it took everything in Dean's power not to shiver.

"Do you mind if I cross them?" Dean bit his lip, the words 'yes I fucking mind' firmly on his lips but he couldn't bring himself to say it. It would be a lie if Dean tried to say he wasn't into it. Instead a strangled sound left his throat when Cas's lips suddenly attached to his neck without warning. His soft, wet tongue laved the sweat off Dean's heated skin, and suddenly the closet was far too stuffy for Dean's liking. Cas grabbed his hips firmly, bringing them closer together. Dean shivered, the adrenaline pumping through his veins because fuck was he really letting this happen?

Cas's hands trailed up his torso, not going under his clothes but still exploring just as thoroughly before his hand made contact with Dean's jaw, turning it so that the hunter was half-facing him.

When Castiel kissed him, Dean was lost.

He stood there in Castiel's arms, fully dressed but feeling completely exposed with the overhead light making his features stark and candid as they kissed. Dean might have let Cas turn him around and press him against the wall and sneak in-between his legs. Dean may have liked this kiss, the touching, the quickly hardening dick pressing against his own. Dean may have kissed back, but God help him he didn't know why. He was pretty sure he'd always been straight, but as Cas licked into his mouth and sucked on his tongue, he couldn't remember what boobs even looked like because all there was was Cas. Cas was here and holding him and he wasn't going to fucking leave and that was alright with Dean.

Maybe if Cas didn't leave, he could just forget that he was one-hundred percent straight.

That had been the first time Dean realized he was bisexual or that at least he could get it up for a man. Cas had just been so passionate about the whole thing. In that room, Dean was the only other person in the world to Cas and the way they kissed was so fucking intimate.

They'd made out for only God knew how long in that storage closet, playing at the edge of sexual but never quite crossing that line and it was painfully cliché when they finally 'came out', but the kissing didn't stop there. Castiel had grown as addicted to kisses as he was with cuddles but Dean had restricted it to when they were alone and nobody could come barging in. Cas pouted, saying that those times were too few but Dean didn't want to hear it. He couldn't deal with all that yet. They'd been together all this time now and he still couldn't tell Sammy.

After his shower, a vigorous search through Jensen's duffel bag proved to be much more difficult than he thought it might be. He was meeting Jensen's parents right? What did Jensen normally wear around them?

He didn't want to think about it too hard, but he did anyways. It took him 30 minutes of trying on clothes before he settled on a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue over-shirt with stripes. He still couldn't get over how nicely Jensen's clothes fit. He always knew he was an attractive guy, but looking in the full-length mirror he realized that Jensen did 36 way better than Dean did 35. After years of scouring the racks of second-hand thrift stores, new threads felt like a second skin made specifically for Dean. He didn't even know if they were new,but they sure did feel new. He spent a few more minutes checking himself out before he left the room.

Misha was downstairs with Jared. Dean did his best to make it seem like there was nothing out of the ordinary, and to hell if he wasn't damn good at subtlety by now after months of practicing it on Sam, but Jared may have been a bit keener than Dean gave him credit for. This was strange because it wasn't like Jared was a hunter. How could he have better senses than Sam?

"Dude what the hell?" The man demanded when Dean walked into the kitchenette. Dean at least had the sense to look scandalized, stopping in his tracks.

"What?" He demanded. What did Jared, master of the senses, detect that had him looking so horrified? Could he somehow read minds? Dean wondered if there was guilt on his face even after all the training he went through with John about desensitizing. It seemed unlikely but maybe not hunting had him going soft. Or maybe it was muscle memory that Jensen didn't have.

"What the hell is that mark on your neck? Is that a hickey?!" Dean froze, his hand going to his neck instantly, trying to feel out where the offending mark was. A few firm presses had him wincing when he reached the space on his right side right by the hollow of his neck. Is that what Misha was doing with his mouth when—Dean felt anger rising up in his chest, replacing the shock. That fucking bastard had the nerve to fucking—There was a choking sound but Dean didn't know if it was laughter or surprise coming from the man at the table and he couldn't investigate because if he even so much as looked at Misha right now, Jared would know. Every instinct in his body told him to glare at Misha in the most accusing way but he couldn't. Jared was standing now, striding over to Dean and pushing his head to the side and baring his neck to inspect the mark.

"Holy shit there's still teeth marks, how fresh is this? And who the hell gave it to you?" Ice filled Dean's stomach because he had no idea how he was going to get out of this situation. There was no way he could lie right now. It was too fresh to try to pretend he'd managed to sneak out. There'd been nobody in the house besides them and fucking Misha was the one who'd slept in his bed last night (It even sounded terrible in his mind). He could see the few scenarios that could possibly be running through Jared's hauntingly Sam-like eyes, deducing and eliminating and coming to the inevitable conclusion;

"Misha?" Jared turned around and Dean allowed himself to look at Misha who was currently holding back his laughter by burying his face in his cereal. Jared rolled his eyes. "Dude you can't give Dean hickeys in his sleep like you do Jensen." Dean could tell Jared was having a hard time holding back his laughter. Understandable, apparently this was something they did all the time (which was still weird), but it was becoming more impossible by the second for Dean to see the humor in this situation.

The ice grew to be a fucking berg in Dean's stomach and anger filled him to the brim because he was the butt of this joke. It was a joke. All of it was a joke and he knew he shouldn't be as hurt by this as he was, but fucking seriously this was not cool. A lot more went on than just a fucking hickey. Dean had all but cheated on not one but two people this morning and here was Misha—fucking laughing.

"You're a fucking asshole." He spat at Misha. Misha's laughter stopped at once and he stood up, seeing the real anger and poorly contained hurt on Dean's face.

"Dean—" he said, taking a step forward. Dean shook his head, snapping a cold mask on and narrowed his eyes at Misha.

"Stay the fuck away from me." Dean snapped and Jared looked curiously between the two, realizing that even Dean wouldn't have gotten as upset over this as he currently was—The Dean that wasn't fucking pining for an angel in a wrinkled trench coat, anyways. He couldn't look at Misha's face for one measly second and he knew it wasn't fair to Misha because he didn't even know, but still. It was all Dean could do not to punch the fucker in the face for this.

Dean turned on his heel and stomped out into the entry hall because he didn't know what he would do if he'd stayed a second longer. It was becoming entirely too easy to blame his fuck up on Misha entirely and that wasn't fair to anybody. Misha was probably playing it all off as a joke to spare them the embarrassment. Dean knew Jared followed him by the ridiculously widely spaced steps behind him. The hunter threw open the door and marched outside, the sun shining brightly on his face.

"Wait up, dude! What the hell was that? If looks could kill, Misha would be spread all over my kitchen by now! Did you get your period or something,"

"Don't you fucking start with me, Jared. I ain't in the mood for your shit. You can stop following me any time." Dean replied without looking back, blindly walking and only vaguely paying enough attention so as not to smash headlong into a tree or something equally stupid.

"But where are you even going?" Jared whined as Dean took a sharp left onto the finely manicured yard in front of the house. They strode at a brisk pace for a few minutes, Dean not even taking notice of the grandiose garden he'd walked directly into at that point.

When he came to a wall of red dotted bushes, he came to a halt. The scent of roses was all around him, the sun making the dew on their petals glitter like stars and the various wooden awnings around him crawling with thorny vines made for a beautiful scene. The stormy feelings from just a few minutes ago were calmer now and he felt almost barbaric in this place, disturbing the beauty with his ugly and broken self.

Jared cleared his throat, snapping Dean out of his reverie. The not-quite hunter turned to him, his expression surprised as though he'd just noticed him for the first time.

"Feel better?" Dean's eyebrows rose and, he found that he did, at least a little. There was still the hole in his chest that only Cas could fill, but it wasn't like he could tell that to Jared. . .

He definitely couldn't. . .

"I don't feel like breaking Misha's face, if that's what you mean."

"Why did you want to break his face, anyways?"

"He fucking branded me!"

"But you and I both know that's not enough to put that look on your face, Dean. You looked seriously pissed off and Dean Winchester may be straight but he's no homophobe." Dean grit his teeth, looking up in frustration.

"Of course I'm not."

"Then what the hell dude?"

"I thought of. . . God I'm kind of—"

"Yeah, Danneel but she's cool—"

"Not fucking Danneel. I'm kind of. . ." Dean fumbled for a word he could use that wouldn't destroy his pride too much. "I'm kind of seeing someone. . ." Jared's eyes widened comically and if Dean wasn't so upset, he might have thought it was kind of funny.

"You love someone?! For real?! I was half-teasing before, dude." Dean gripped his fist, feeling the irritation creep into his temple.

"I said I was seeing someone not—not that! Jesus Christ, Jared." The urge to rearrange someone's nose was slowly crawling back up Dean's neck. Jared snorted in disbelief.

"I'm always around Jensen when he's telling lies as Dean so I know when he's lying! You are totally in love." Why? Was he that fucking obvious? Dean huffed in irritation.

"Oh shut up. You know, you're even more obnoxious than the real Sam!" Jared looked at him in amusement.

"Come on, who is it? Is it someone here? Is it that Deb chick? What's her name? Nah you only just met her. . . Are you back with Lisa?" Dean shook his head, remaining tense. "Come on, come on come onnnnn! Charlie?! But she's a lesbian. . . " Dean curled his upper lip and he decided to do something before Jared's suspicions got even more ridiculous. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. But if it would make this man shut up then it would be worth it!

"It's not even. . . God, it's not a girl, okay?" Dean's heart was racing and he was still looking up determinedly at the sky, refusing to see Jared's reaction.

"What?!"

"I'm not going to fuckin' say it again."

"So wait. . . You're gay?" Dean's face snapped down and their green eyes connected for the first time since the beginning of this awkward conversation.

"No! I'm not gay. . ." Dean nervously wrung his hands in his black undershirt, looking at a very interesting rose off to the side because fuck if what he was about to say wasn't the girliest shit ever."It's just h-him." Dean felt like he might burst into flames. Jared's face was dumbstruck and Dean couldn't even look at him. The other man managed one word.

"Who?!"

"Who do you fucking think?" He snapped. Jared thought for a moment and his eyebrows shot up.

"Castiel?!" Dean crossed his arms, refusing to look at Jared. Jared thought for exactly one moment before he looked up, shock still evident on his face. "Hey! Hey hey hey. . . That never happened in the series, though, right? Dude I am so confused. . ."

"It hasn't happened, yet. But Misha told me that Jensen had already read the script before all of this happened so. . . You can expect it to happen in the next season." Jared looked at him skeptically.

"Dude. . . I know you and Castiel have always been close but. . . Correct me if I'm wrong, you've been vehemently straight for the entire series. Why would you suddenly become gay for one guy?"

"Because Cas is. . ." He swallowed, his eyes threatening to glaze over as he thought about how perfect Castiel was to him. "It wasn't exactly sudden. At least I know on my end I dragged it out as long as I could before I couldn't deny it anymore." Jared looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I haven't even told Sammy yet. He's my brother." Was your brother. His mind cruelly corrected for him. Dean swallowed his regret for that and looked determinedly at Jared. "Don't tell anybody about this okay? Especially not Danneel or Misha. . . I don't want things to get awkward between them."

"Of course not." Jared looked thoughtfully for a moment. "So that scene at breakfast today. . . If what you're saying is true then. . . Oh shit, dude." Jared had this deep fucking look of regret plastered all over his stupid face and the urge to smack it off came back to Dean with a vengeance and Jared was the prime candidate right now. Dean turned away, flexing and releasing his fingers, trying to let out the steam.

Jared didn't even know the half of it, but Dean would eat his left nut before telling him he'd taken part in a mutual fucking frotting with Misha Collins and that it was apparently all just one big joke to the man; The man that had the face of his almost-but-not-quite boyfriend. The angel he would never see again. The man he never got to say that four letter word to.

"Look. I don't want to talk about what happened at breakfast. Do you have any makeup or anything I can use to cover this thing?" He gestured to the mark on his neck that he had yet to see but judging from Jared's initial reaction and how tender it was to touch, it was a big fucking problem.

"Y-Yeah of course." Jared scratched his head, a grin spreading on his face before he spoke again. "So. . . who bottoms?"

"What?!"

"You know, the wide receiver? The catcher? Or do you switch it up?" Dean paled, feeling extremely exposed right now.

"I-I. . . Why would you even ask that?!"

"I'm just curious!" Jared explained, hanging off of Dean's sleeve like a child. Dean yanked his arm free, backing away as though Jared had some sort of plague.

"T-That's personal you asshole!" Dean looked away, his face turning scarlet as he started stomping out of the nursery.

"He totally tops!"

"Fuck off, Jared!"

::

Back in the house, Dean sat on the couch watching more episodes of Supernatural. Jared had informed him that the Ackles' would be arriving at the airport in two hours but they had to leave in one hour so that they had enough time to get there. They had time to kill and Dean wasn't up to acting right now, too nervous about his meet with Jensen's parents, too pissed about the incident with Misha to focus on anything, really. He wasn't even paying much attention to the show.

He was thinking about Castiel.

He thought about their relationship—How brightly it had burned when it finally started becoming something real. They both gave everything they had into it and what made it so bittersweet was that they never acknowledged it for what it was. Dean was too chicken-shit for that. He released a shuddering breath and his heart felt like it was literally breaking when he realized he would never touch Castiel again.

Their relationship had been a rocky one to begin with. Dean hadn't been able to put a name to it and, although Castiel knew that it was changing in profound ways, he wasn't sure what it was becoming.

Once Castiel learned though, the angel had been strangely silent about the whole deal for about a month—no kissing, touching or even hugging (something Dean would deny to this day that he missed a helluva lot). Dean learned then that his feelings for Castiel ran much deeper than normal friendship. He felt completely rejected even though he hadn't even asked Castiel if he wanted to be with him—hadn't even wanted to ask.

That Castiel completely shut down the moment the very possibility had even arisen is what tortured Dean that entire month. The tentative intimacy Dean had built with Castiel had been a lot more than the hunter had ever given to anybody. He'd allowed himself to get close to Cas whether he realized it or not, and when it was suddenly taken away, Dean found himself very suddenly and devastatingly heartbroken. He'd missed Castiel's touches more than he'd wanted to admit, and was the thought of being in a relationship with Dean really that detestable?

Not that Dean had wanted a relationship with Castiel. . . That month had been spent reminding himself that it was for the best and Castiel was doing them both a favor by severing it—whatever it was before it could even begin. Castiel knew Dean. The angel had been the one to piece back together his forsaken soul after all. Of course Castiel had known that Dean was broken and nothing but bad news. Nothing good ever happened in Dean's life and anybody close to him only got hurt. Dean had been convinced he was never meant for the kind of love and devotion a relationship provided. Once upon a time Dean had thought maybe he would like that kind of life, and he'd had it with Cassie and even more with Lisa and Ben, but both relationships had been ripped violently from him, reminding him that it'd been a hopeless endeavor that only ended in pain and loneliness like everything else.

But this. . . this had fucking hurt. Dean had had something close to this feeling when he was with Cassie but goddamn it hadn't even hurt this bad when she'd broken up with him. Castiel wasn't even his goddamn fucking boyfriend, yet the pain of Castiel's withdrawal had been tearing him up inside was even worse than the pain of being torn up in hell.

Dean's despair had eaten at him as the days flew by until he'd had enough of the moping. He was a Winchester goddammit and he'd be damned if he were going to sit there like some weepy teenage girl shoving tampons up his ass. He'd made the decision to throw away his emotions because they never did him any good anyways. Sam had noticed and tried to ask him what the hell was going on, but Dean would always brush his concern aside, his mask firmly in place as he'd tease Sam for wanting another 'heart-to-heart' and insisting he was just fine.

The lies had been easy to spew. Dean was a practiced liar when it came to Sam and the guilt slowly faded the more he did it. What he'd not anticipated was that more than just the guilt was being chiseled away. Inside of him the void had grown until Dean was a hollow shell of what he had been before. The only thing that suggested Dean was still in there were the repetitive motions of everyday life. He ate, slept, shat and hunted just like the good little soldier John had taught him to be. That was all he knew he was good for. Sam still worried, but he was Sam. That's what Sam did.

It hadn't been until Castiel locked him in a room and demanded to know what was going on that Dean had let his emotions come back into the mix, and even then it had taken a full hour for Castiel to get Dean angry enough to break down the iron fortresses guarding his weak and desperate self—The part Dean had buried deep in the dark recesses of his mind.

Dean had been screaming then, angry at Castiel for letting him get so close and then tearing away like a particularly sticky band aid on the hairiest part of your leg, leaving it raw and missing parts that used to be there. Dean had screamed and shouted, punching and kicking Castiel when the angel got closer to him. He broke his fingers and feet multiple times but Castiel would heal him over and over again, letting Dean get out his anger and frustration in the only way he knew how. Eventually Dean had ended up a crying mess on the floor with Castiel's arms wrapped around him, his body absorbing the sobs and broken sounds coming from the hunter. Dean had remained that way for hours long after he'd run out of tears to cry and it was a long time before Dean had gathered the courage to look at Castiel and speak to him.

"Why did you leave me?"

Dean knew that he'd been there physically the entire month, but he and Cas both knew that he wasn't referring to that when he asked the question.

"Dean if you'll let me explain—" Dean shook his head, his body still wracked with violent shudders.

"You didn't say a goddamned word after that night about anything and I—I don't know why but I wanted something, anything. I just. . . I know I suck and I understand if you don't want that kind of thing with me, I don't even suggest you have that kind of thing with me but you can't just. . . fuck! You can't just let me get so close and then just take everything away all at once, Cas. God. . . I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't that. Okay?" Cas ran the back of his hand down Dean's cheek, tracing the tear stains there. Dean did his best not to flinch away, completely reluctant to accepting any form of physical intimacy now. A worried line formed between Castiel's eyebrows. He was sad but his face was stern.

"You think I don't know what I did to you, Dean? I know you better than anybody I devastated you in ways you've never let anybody hurt you. It wasn't long before I understood just how close you were getting to me." Dean felt his air catch in his throat, the sobs threatening to come back and panic flared in his chest. Castiel knew. That bastard fucking knew just how wrecked Dean became from all of this but he let it stay that way for a whole month! He squashed down the fear, letting the anger return as he made to pull away but Castiel held him tightly. "And that's why I had to cut it off." Dean frowned, not understanding at all. Castiel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair-a completely human habit he'd picked up from the time he'd been Graceless. "Dean, I'm an angel, and a stupid one at that." He looked regrettably into Dean's eyes, swallowing in a nervous gesture that he really didn't need to do. "I am a collector of experiences and I was enjoying my experience with you but it was worrisome. Dean you were getting so close and I could feel you becoming so attached to me that it was overwhelming and I had to take a step back before you committed yourself entirely to me—Something you don't just give out freely." He looked up and it looked like he was having some sort of internal battle before continuing.

"I crave experiences like that and I could feel my emotions clouding my judgment. I didn't know whether I was actually feeling the same way for you or if I was just using you for the experience." Dean flinched, withdrawing even more and trying to build back his walls that he'd worked so hard to make. Castiel grabbed his arm, as though physically stopping him from doing that. "Dean I needed to make sure I wasn't going to hurt you more than I already had the potential to. The best thing I could do at the moment was break it off before it turned into anything more while I searched for answers to my uncertainties." Dean was pissed, sure that Castiel could have done all that without shattering him to pieces. Castiel looked ashamed. "I obviously didn't spend enough time being human, Dean. I realize now that what I did was the wrong thing. I was inconsiderate of your feelings on the matter and how deeply my isolation would affect you. I guess this all could have been avoided if I had simply talked to you about it in the first place." Castiel looked away, the shame burning in his eyes stronger than ever now. "I was afraid. . . I didn't want you to reject me and I'm truly sorry for the pain I inflicted upon you."

Dean heard every word but refused to acknowledge it. He pushed forward the conversation, deciding that he really didn't even want to think about forgiving Cas for this right now. He knew he would eventually because he couldn't ever stay angry at Cas for long, but right now he didn't have it in him. He just wanted to know what the fuck Cas decided.

"Did you get the answers you were looking for?"

"Yes." Castiel tightened his hand around Dean's arm and their eyes connected, the green ones tired and strained and the blue ones tense and vulnerable. "T-This isn't just another experience for me, Dean. This is what you call 'the real deal'. I can't get you out of my head and I—I missed you the whole week I isolated myself from you. I hated watching you in pain, it was painful just for me to watch you break more every day and it took everything in me not to reach out and just hold you. I couldn't take it any longer. I needed you to be okay. . . I need you." Dean let out a shuddering breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding. Relief flooded his senses and it was like he could fucking breathe again. Was he even allowed to believe a word Castiel was saying? He knew the angel wasn't lying but right now his trust level for Cas was at its bare minimum and he'd be damned if he put himself in a vulnerable position again so easily. His mask was firmly back in place when he spoke again.

"Kiss me." Castiel blinked, confusion on his face. Castiel would know that it wouldn't be that easy to be close to Dean again, but the suspicion in his eyes gave way to hope when he leaned in, pressing his lips softly against Dean's as if tentatively asking if this was okay. Dean opened his mouth, allowing Cas to deepen the kiss into hot sucks and gentle licks. Dean could feel Castiel's shoulders sag in relief.

Dean couldn't trust Cas right now, but maybe with a little bit of effort, and a firm reminder that Cas was just a dummy who had just been trying to look out for him, they could probably work it out.

The kiss was the same for both of them. It felt like home and that was all they both had ever wanted.

Dean dug the heel of his palm into his forehead, willing away a rather persistent headache at the sudden flood of memories-yet-not-memories. This was quickly becoming a habit and a part of him wished that the memories were Jensen's and not his. His memories were so raw and it was so fucking painful that he had to resist the urge to go upstairs, lock the door and just sleep for the rest of the day. He had just enough time before they left to get rid of this pain and put on that trusty mask of his that made everybody believe he was alright.

Well, everybody except Cas of course. Cas always just knew when there was something Dean was trying to hide.

Cas wasn't here though.

"Dean." Dean's head whipped around, sending him doubling over in pain because fucking Cas's voice just sounded from the archway. It was definitely not Cas because Cas didn't wear jeans or watches or anything Misha Collins was wearing. Motherfucking monkey shit he was going to be driven fucking nuts if he had to suffer this shit daily!

"What?!" Dean ground out, refusing to make eye contact with Misha. He probably couldn't anyways. It seemed that if he looked any way but straight ahead, knives would start stabbing his brain in all directions.

"A peace offering of prescription-strength pain medication? I know a migraine when I see one." Scruples be damned, give Dean the drugs! He held out his hand, feeling Misha place two pills in his hand. Dean swallowed them down, closely followed by a gulp of water before proceeding to lie on his stomach.

"What do you want?" Dean said, ignoring the heat of Misha's body next to his as the man sat down on the couch.

"I know you think I played a terrible joke on you today, but you have to understand that it wasn't the case."

"Really, now." Dean said, disinterested. There was nothing that Misha could say that would abate his anger.

"I knew that Jared would internally combust if he knew what we'd really got up to in the bedroom today, so I had to make him believe the contrary." Dean flushed hotly at the memory, tensing.

"Will you shut up? What if he heard you?"

"That's all I'll say about it. But you have to know that I wasn't playing a joke on you when I left that mark. I did it completely unintentionally. . . amongst other things."

"Why did you keep on, huh? What we did. . . You could have stopped."

"You could have too, but you didn't. I wonder why that is. . ." Dean narrowed his eyes, twisting so that he was facing Misha.

"What are you saying?" He demanded.

"The way you were moving under me suggests that it wasn't your first time with a guy grinding on top of you." Dean felt his face heat up and he glared. Of course Misha fucking knew.

"If you've already read the script, the reasons for what you did make even less sense! I'm not some fucking toy for you to play with, Misha. I'm a person just as real as you." Misha looked momentarily confused.

"The script? For season ten? What are you talking about? I never read that." Dean blinked.

"What? Really you didn't. . .?"

"What does the script have to do with this, Dean?" Shit. He didn't read it? It hadn't been intentional. So what had this morning been about. . .?

Fuck. . .

Misha furrowed his brows, looking at Dean curiously before opening his mouth only to be cut off by Jared walking into the hall. Thank God for that because Dean really didn't want to make things any more awkward with Misha than they already were. Apparently Misha gave Jensen hickeys in his sleep on a regular basis which was weird but Dean guessed it could be funny and hetero somehow (he would have to spend extensive time figuring out how). . . But as far as Dean knew, getting each other's rocks off consciously was not normal straight friend behavior. Even Misha acknowledged that what happened was definitely crossing a line and Dean very nearly just fucked everything up. Misha was onto him now and it didn't even matter if Misha seemed kind of into it because Jensen still had a fucking girlfriend—Hell Dean was still with Cas and just cause Misha looked like Cas, didn't make it okay to do something like that so soon. It wasn't okay at all and Dean felt like the lowest piece of shit. Damn Misha for fucking up his emotions with his stupid Castiel face. What was he playing at screwing with an engaged man anyways?

"Come on, guys. We gotta go now. Mish', you coming?" Misha stood up, sending Dean one more curious look before smiling widely.

"Of course! I haven't seen Donna in ages." Donna was apparently Jensen's mom and Alan was his father. He also had a sister named Mackenzie and a brother Josh. Mackenzie was in school in England and had been receiving regular updates about Dean—Jensen's health status since the accident. Apparently Josh would be joining his parents, and Mackenzie would be flying in at the start of summer break. Jared and Misha seemed really close to Jensen's parents and Dean didn't know why he was suddenly jealous by that fact. It wasn't like they were his parents. At least they weren't in his head. The nerves started to come back tenfold. Not only would he be meeting his parents but he would be meeting his brother. Apparently it was his real brother and goddamn it, Dean wasn't ready for that. The only brother he'd ever known had the face of the guy standing in front of him right now and Dean resisted the urge to seek comfort because he was a grown fucking man.

Jared seemed to read his thoughts.

"Josh is a really nice guy, Dean. You not as close with him as you are with Mackenzie, but you guys enjoy a good beer together watching football." Dean's upper lip curled.

"Football ain't really my thing. . ."

"Maybe it is and you just need to try it." Dean rolled his eyes and shoved past Jared.

"Come on, we're gonna be late."

::

The ride to the airport had been uncomfortably silent. As he stared out the window, Dean realized that Canada was just one big forest with towns dotted all over the place. He tried to count the trees as a distraction but after the ninety-third one, Dean got bored and could only imagine what was going through everybody's heads right now. Jared knew he was gay for Cas, probably had a fuck-ton of questions and was thinking up horrible scenarios that had the potential of playing out over the next few weeks. Dean didn't even want to know what Misha was thinking right now. The man was eerily silent and giving him all sorts of weird looks. Dean wondered how he must have read that situation.

Dean had all but confirmed that he'd had 'more practice' with men than everyone knew. Obviously Jensen didn't since Jensen was engaged to a babe like Danneel but man. . . Why was it so easy for him to get it up for a man if that were true? Was it all in his head? Was the script of season ten so deeply ingrained in Jensen's mind that he'd convinced himself he really was gay?

Even that didn't make sense because Dean still liked women. He wasn't gay he was bi. Cas had always been in jealous huffs when a nice rack caught Dean's eye and it stuck on it for a few seconds too long, but Danneel. . .when she came onto him the last time, he hadn't wanted anything to do with her and she was nothing if not his exact type. She was gorgeous and sexy and fuck. Nothing. Not even one spark of arousal was flaring for her and it just didn't make any sense. Why would Jensen be with someone he wasn't attracted to? For six years!

He was audibly grinding his teeth by now and Jared shot him a worried look. No, Jared this wasn't about his coming out thing. He hadn't even had the opportunity to freak out about that yet. Right now this issue with Misha was taking up all of his concentration because he didn't know what he was going to do. What they did together this morning could not be undone and what the hell had been going through Misha's mind, anyways?

He'd noted that Dean's behavior was not that of a one-hundred percent straight man, but the same could be said for Misha too! After Misha woke up, he could have stopped at any time but he didn't. Was he gay? He said he hadn't done it as a joke, so it wasn't that. What else could it be? Dean was well aware of how sexy most of the population found him and if Misha was even just a little bit gay he was in trouble because he was sure even Jensen was aware of how irresistible he was. In any case, Misha was the reason Dean was so confused right now, and he felt a little better at the thought of the actor possibly going through a gay crisis right now because of him. He smirked as various evil things he could do in retaliation started to flutter through his thoughts and Jared looked even more concerned than he did before.

::

The airport was literally hell.

Three times people had knocked into him, making him overbalance and forced to hang onto Misha to keep from falling flat on his face. He was still a bit dizzy sometimes and this wasn't helping matters in the slightest. Dean was disappointed to find out they didn't actually need to carry a sign for when the Ackles' arrived. Jared said that was only when the person didn't know what you looked like.

When they finally arrived, Dean's nerves came back full force and he stiffly stuck out his hand for his 'father' who, wow, he supposed this man kind of looked like him. He didn't look anything like John but he supposed this made more sense. The man who played "John" was an actor, after all.

An actor that was very much alive, same with Mary, his mom. Dean swallowed this realization and locked it away for further study when he wasn't expected to greet these people politely.

Donna batted away his hand and brought him in for a tight hug. She didn't care that he didn't remember her face. She was just genuinely glad to see that her son was alright and Dean swallowed, wrapping his arms around her because damn, it was nice to have a mom again.

"Oh, baby I'm so glad you're okay. . ." She said, the relief in her voice almost tangible

"It's good to have you back, son." Alan joined her and Dean found himself caught in something of an Ackles sandwich and this was weird because John rarely hugged him like this and he tried not to feel too embarrassed that Jared and Misha were just standing there, grinning like a couple of idiots.

His eye caught the man standing there behind Donna, smiling. He gave Dean a wave and Dean gave him a tight smile and a salute, finally breaking away from the suffocating entrapment of Donna and Alan.

The hugging went on for way longer than what had to be socially acceptable, Jared and Misha demanding their turns respectively. Josh must have picked up the tension rolling off of Dean because he settled for a firm handshake and a tight "How you doing, man?" and that was good. It was just too soon to acknowledge that he had an older brother when he just lost his younger one.

Not one of them were offended that Dean didn't remember them.

Of course they knew about what happened and his current state of amnesia. They'd obviously prepared for it but Dean didn't see even one hurt or disappointed look from any of them.

Dean had gotten used to disappointing John over the years. It was made clear that if you didn't live up to what your family expected of you, you were a worthless piece of shit. Why wasn't it like this with the Ackles'? Sure it wasn't like that with Bobby, either but Bobby wasn't his flesh and blood and it seemed that the unconditional love thing was reserved for your cranky drunken uncles.

Maybe he'd gotten it all wrong. All he could see in the Ackles' faces was love.

And was it so bad that Dean kind of hoped that this is how it was supposed to be? Was it wrong to believe that Dean could have a family that didn't put becoming a part of the family business above his own happiness? Was it wrong that Dean hadn't originally wanted to hunt down Azazel? He'd wanted Sammy to grow up normally, graduate school and go to college without that in his life. Was it really that selfish that Dean had kind of wanted that for himself too?

They went back to Jared's house and Donna pulled him onto the couch next to her, Alan sitting on his other side. She pulled out her iPad and talked.

"It's about time we do some catching up, don't you think?"

"I suppose we should." Dean smiled tightly, watching as she pulled up the 'photos' app. The first things in her folders were a bunch of houses and rooms.

"These are some of my designs here. It's only the recent ones, my older ones are on my computer at home."

"You designed these?" Dean took the tablet and looked at the various decorated rooms. They were so elegant and beautiful. "You all are so freakin talented." He looked to Alan. "You're an actor, She's an interior designer, and Mackenzie is going to school in Europe?"

"You're forgetting you were a model when you were just a child and you're now a famous actor." Josh said, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his dad with a coke in his hand. "I'm the only average Joe of the family."

"If you don't count your football trophies. You know you could have gone pro." Alan said, patting his son on the knee.

"Celebrity life is definitely not for me. The one moment I let people take a picture of me with Jensen here, and the media is up my ass for weeks." Well that was good to know. At least there were some normal people around him. Donna laughed, putting her arm tightly around Dean's waist and leaning her head against his shoulder.

"We're all regular people, Jensen. Even you." Like she's a fucking mind-reader or something!

"But I don't even know what Jensen does on his free time apart from being famous."

"Well when you're not in California with Danneel during her jobs or touring, you're usually working at the ranch in Texas. You love horseback riding and everybody usually spends the summer there. We go hunting and fishing and camping all the time. It's fun. Misha, Gen and Jared are always with us. We should do it this summer."

Dean nodded politely, but the prospect was so foreign to him. He couldn't even remember going camping with his Dad. They were always on the road or in crappy motels and it was always too dangerous sleeping in the woods when you were a hunter.

Winchesters didn't have a good reputation amongst the supernatural.

The rest of the day was spent learning about Donna, Alan, Mackenzie and Josh and their lives they all lead in America. Donna had the honor of showing Dean how douchey Jensen had been as a child and teen model. Seriously brick patterned pants? Ugh. . . How did Jensen even walk in broad daylight with those pictures plastered all over the internet? Did the man have no pride at all?

What Dean didn't mind, however, was the looks on their faces as they showed him. They looked so fucking proud of their son. Both Alan and Donna were content just bragging to him about how successful their sons were. Jensen had more accomplishments than Josh, not to say that they weren't proud of him too, but Jensen was just so much more famous. Dean had always walked in Sam's shadow when it came to accomplishments, he wasn't used to being the center of attention like this and it made him as uncomfortable as it made him giddy.

But these people were so happy. Dean didn't sense any negativity or impending sense of doom when talking to them. They didn't have a dark history like the Winchester family did. They didn't have any of that crap and Dean was almost jealous of Jensen for being able to grow up without faking his smiles to keep his siblings optimistic. If he had a problem, Dean was sure these people were readily supportive and just so fucking perfect.

Could this really belong to him? Did Dean really deserve this perfect life with these perfect people?

Donna made dinner, the aforementioned shepherd's pie that Dean had never had before. They all sat at Jared's large burgundy dining table. Josh and Jared were chatting towards the end closest to the kitchen, when Donna was finished serving, she sat next to Alan, who was sat next to Dean who somehow managed to end up straight across from him was the topic he'd been avoiding all day.

Misha was tucking into the pie with enthusiasm which was great and all, but Dean was still wary of him. He didn't know what game Misha Collins was playing, but Dean was determined not to let him win. Dean was almost 100% sure the man was bi or gay, but he hadn't come out yet. Maybe he hadn't even known until today. What they'd done this morning could really fuck up Jensen's life if Danneel ever found out about it. Dean had never been a cheater. He still considered himself exclusive with Cas, too. To do that shit with another man, even if he had the same face was fucked up and wrong. Even if this man was the only thing left he had of Cas. . . it was wrong.

No. He had to see where Misha stood on the whole gay and possibly attracted to Jensen theory. He had to put the man to the test before he could act on this and he needed to put the brakes on this thing before it got out of hand. Dean would have to pull out all the stops on his flirting and turn up the charm to dangerous levels. If it was one thing he was good at besides hunting and fixing cars, it was seduction. Men and women alike had a hard time resisting him and this would be no different.

Misha caught his eye and instead of looking away, Dean held his gaze steadfastly. This was his first opportunity and he wasn't going to let it pass by. Dean raised his eyebrow and smiled in a suggestive manner. The man gave him a surprised look in return.

Dean not-so-subtly licked his lips after he took a drink of his wine, his eyes glued to Misha as he did so. Misha was watching the whole time, his expression tighter than Dean had ever seen it. While it wasn't enough to convince Dean that Misha had a crush on him, he knew for sure that Misha wasn't as straight as he seemed, if the bob of his Adam's apple was anything to judge by.

Misha, you are about as straight as Taylor Lautner and I'm gonna out your ass, you sonovabitch.


	7. Chapter 7

The Ackles' stayed overnight and Jared was out of spare rooms after his parents grabbed the last one, so Dean offered to give Josh his room—Well the one he was currently staying in. He had to remind himself that he didn't actually live in Jared's house. . .

Josh had tentatively offered to share and Dean hastily told him it was fine and he'd just camp on the couch tonight. The couch was comfy anyways, red leather and roomy. Dean really didn't mind and it was better to avoid the awkward situation of having to tell Josh that he wasn't comfortable like that with him. They were brothers and maybe if he tried it wouldn't be so bad, but Dean didn't really  _want_ to yet. He wasn't ready to accept that his brother wasn't really 6'4" with softer hair than any girl he'd known. Misha had already gone to bed, obviously avoiding Dean and that left a little self-satisfied warmth in his chest right alongside next to worry.

What if he'd freaked Misha out? He didn't think he was being  _that_ openly flirty yet. . . Obviously dudes didn't easily freak Misha out since they'd got off together easily enough that morning.

The house when he moved through it was dark and quiet. It seemed so much bigger than he knew it was, but thankfully it didn't seem so foreign anymore. He was starting to gain a sense for navigating it and it only took a moment before he found the stairwell again.

He took a blanket from the closet to the right of the stairs and went downstairs, finding Jared still chatting with Donna. She smiled up at him, standing and pulling him in for a hug, he returned it easily, already becoming addicted to the feel of her warmth around him like a giant blanket even though she was so small.

"Thank you so much for putting up with us today, Jensen. You're really taking all of this remarkably well." Dean smiled, genuinely.

"No really, the pleasure was mine. I-It's good to know that Jense- _I_ have a good family." She, cupped his face and smiled lovingly before turning to Jared who was standing now and gave him a hug. She looked to be half his size and it was kind of adorable the way she nearly disappeared in his embrace.

"Goodnight, both of you. I expect you up early because breakfast is at 7 on the dot." Dean gave her a little wave before she disappeared upstairs. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Jared sat down on the couch and grinned.

"Congratulations! You survived the Ackles'. Feel better?"

"Y-Yeah they're good people. It's a little surreal though, seeing people that look like me when I've never met them before." Jared patted his leg, an important look spreading on his face.

"Come on, sit on Santa's lap and tell him about your woes." Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're not serious." Jared looked at him sternly.

"Oh, I'm dead serious." Dean snorted, rolling his eyes, his face grinning beyond his control.

"I'm not gonna sit on your  _lap._ "

"You are." Before he knew it, Jared lurched at him, grabbing at his waist like a vice and he found himself hurtling forward onto the couch and into Jared's body in a very painful position. He shifted to at least get a little more comfortable and glared. Jared was wearing an infuriating smirk and Dean sighed, embarrassed at how easily he was apprehended, legs pinned firmly on each side of Jared's lap.

"Your bow legs make this very easy."

"Oh shut up. . ." As weird as the situation was, Dean didn't really feel that weird about it. He could honestly say he'd never straddled anybody but Cas before—Which had been a lot of fun, mind you—But part of him that Dean realized wasn't entirely Dean wanted so badly just to curl up into Jared's warmth and fall asleep. "What is it with you guys and stuff like this." He yawned, already feeling Jared's warmth seep into him. It was way too fucking cozy on Jared's lap and he willed with all his might the awkwardness to come back because without it, it was freaky and Dean didn't like being so touchy with men and even less being comfortable with it.

"Stuff like what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely to their position on the couch. "Touching and stuff. . . It's pretty gay isn't it?"

"If you tell yourself it is, then sure. But I don't have any urges to have sex with you, so it's not weird for me." Dean bit his cheek as his anxiety spiked from his next thought.

"If my dad—If  _John_  ever saw me like this, I wouldn't get off with just a scolding." John wouldn't have understood platonic cuddling between two guy friends. Even Dean was having a hard time understanding it, for Christ's sake.

"Right but we live in a society where we're no longer ruled by heterosexual machismo. If I want to cuddle, I cuddle. I don't discriminate by gender." Dean rolled his eyes, relaxing a fraction on the tall man's legs.

"Look, I'm not exactly the poster boy for heterosexuality." Anymore, he reminded himself. He used to be pretty macho back in the day. "I just don't see how it's so  _easy_ for you to think like that. I have a very clear sense of what's manly and what's not." He looked at his position on his lap. " _This_ is not manly."

"But you still have a penis so there's no real consequence here. You're telling me you never cuddled with Cas?" Dean blushed, balling his fists because he didn't know what else to do with his hands.

"Well we  _did._ A lot, actually,but privately. . . For some reason I get the feeling that you would do this with me in a room full of people." Jared grinned

"I  _would,_ but that's just because everyone knows how close we are." Jared thought for a bit, throwing his head back on the couch and smiling. "When I first met Jensen he kind of felt the same as you do, hell even  _I_ felt that way but it was so easy to be around him and it was fun to draw him out of his bubble. We got so used to hanging all over each other that once there was a week during filming that Jensen demanded I piggy-back him everywhere." Dean smiled at that, almost happy that Jensen had someone that helped him out of his shell because underlying Dean didn't really have a lot of that in his life. Dean wasn't sure he could be that carefree, but he would try to be a little more open minded. Jared laughed. "Dude, he is  _such_ a princess. One time we had to stop the shoot because he wouldn't shoot until he got a nap with me cuddled up with him on bobby's couch."

"He would smack you if he knew you were talking about him like this."

"How would you know?" Jared said, amused.

"Because I just. . ." Jared grinned wide, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You know him. . . Dude this is great! We're actually getting somewhere. Seriously how did you know? Did you remember something?" Suddenly Dean felt a little exposed, not quite sure when he started  _knowing_ Jensen.

"I-It's not a memory or anything. It's more like an automatic response? It's weird 'cause it conflicts with  _my_ automatic response so I know it's not mine." He sighed, scratching his head trying to find a better way to explain. "There are only two people that have ever lived in this head so I'm sure it's Jensen. I'm starting to separate what reactions are mine and what ones are his." Dean leaned forward, resting half of his face on Jared's shoulder. "This is him now, and I'm just letting it happen even though it's weird to me, it comforts him and that's good enough I guess." Jared laughed, a rich sound that Dean could feel. He breathed in deeply, feeling his muscles loosen up when Jared wrapped his arms around his back. "I can tell you guys are really tight. You comfort him."

"Now  _that_ is pretty gay. Tell Jensen I'm a married man." Dean didn't even hold back this time and smacked Jared in the forehead.

"Shh. You're ruining it." He admonished. Dean couldn't explain why, but even  _he_ was happy right now. Being held by Jared was actually kind of fucking  _nice._ He hadn't cuddled with Sam like this since they were little. They did it on the nights when Dad didn't come home but it stopped once they reached the age that they started having more  _interesting_ dreams about girls and the like and mornings became a problem. They never had moments like that again and Dean wished they never stopped. What was an awkward boner or two anyways? "It's weird having a brother I've never known." He spoke aloud, not knowing why the words fell so easily around Jared.

"I can imagine that's frustrating. Probably like the first time you met Adam." Dean screwed up his face, the bitterness and guilt rising at that name.

"Oh don't get me started on  _that_." Dean circled his arms around Jared's back. "No, I'm pretty sure you're my brother. Even though you're not related by blood, you're still Sam to me and that's what matters. Can't I trade Josh for you?" Jared laughed, his voice echoing in the large, darkened room.

"Now, now. Don't be mean. Josh is a really nice guy. You just need to get to know him."

"I don't wanna."

"Whining will get you nowhere." Dean made no comment. He didn't care if he was acting like a child. Right now he didn't feel like being an adult.

"I don't know, Cas always let me get my way."

"Well, all you had to do was bat your pretty green eyes at him and the guy would get a chunk of the moon for you."

"Pretty much." He grinned into Jared's shoulder, relaxing at the thought of Cas and how much Cas loved making him happy. "He always tried to spoil me, telling me I never did nice things for myself, so he would do them for me. One time he tried making a pie and that was the most hilarious shit ever. Imagine Cas covered in flour with a blackened pie sitting on the counter." He laughed, biting his lip, his heart swelling with that warmth he tried never put a name to. He could now, though. "To know I had someone that loved me that much. . . Me!" He looked up at Jared because he had to understand the gravity of the situation. "Can you even believe that?"

"Yeah. You're a great man, Dean. Why wouldn't Cas fall in love with you? You might be kind of a dick sometimes, but that angel is tough. He's probably the only one that can handle that hot-headedness of yours." Dean pouted, but he couldn't help but smile at the same time, sinking back into Jared's embrace and sighing contently.

"You're probably right."

"You are  _so_ in love with him! Seeing Dean like this is making me very uncomfortable." Dean bit his lip, for once denying it didn't even cross his mind.

"I know. . . But you probably know what it's like. Even though I don't understand it, you love  _Ruby_." He could almost hear Jared rolling his eyes.

"Genevieve. She's nothing  _like_ Ruby in real life, Dean. She's sweet and caring and probably the most selfless person I've ever met." Dean let his eyes slip closed, basking in Jared's warmth and not giving a shit that he was cuddled up to another dude for the first time ever (Cas didn't really count).

"How did you know?" Jared threw his head back, and Dean could feel his muscles relax as he searched for words to put to his memories.

"Usually when I'm playing someone's boyfriend on-screen, it takes a lot of effort to make it seem like I love that person. With Gen it was so natural. . . I actually had to tone it down when she was Ruby because apparently I couldn't stop making doe-eyes at her. I didn't even really know her that well but our chemistry was something you only find in the cheesiest romantic comedies and I realized that I couldn't ignore that." Dean snorted, wrapping even more tightly around Jared.

"That really is the cheesiest thing I've ever heard."

"Well not as cheesy as yours and Cas's ' _profound bond'_. Seriously falling in love with your guardian angel? Do you know how cliché that is?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"How many people can say that their boyfriend literally pulled them out of hell?" Jared considered this for a moment and Dean smirked. "Cas is awesome and for some reason he puts up with my shit. That's all I need."

Jared chuckled and patted his back. "Such a way with words. Come on, I'm thirsty and my legs are falling asleep." Dean huffed indignantly.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Yes. Now get up."

"No." Jared huffed, irritably.

"Well I wasn't expecting  _this_. Dean Winchester: Expert supernatural hunter and needy cuddle slut." Dean snorted, burying his face in shame.

"Fuck off. This is all Jensen. I'm just not denying it because I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be making progress and I really see no downside, here. You  _are_ comfortable." Of course this wasn't just Jensen. Dean was a big fan of cuddling even if Cas was the only one who knew that. Jared would find out soon enough but he would like to keep up appearances as long as possible.

He wasn't expecting Jared to fold his hands under his ass and just start standing up, regardless of whether Dean was on him or not. Jared was able to lift him like he was nothing. Dean tightened his grip around Jared's neck as the tall man made his way to the kitchen.

"Dude, what the hell?! Put me down."

"You had your chance and abandoned it. Look at the position you put me in. You're just as much of a princess as Jen." Jared opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a jug of orange juice.

"You started this! And I am  _not_ a princess."

"No, more like a baby koala."  _So much for keeping up appearances. . ._

"You totally just wanted to grab my ass!" Jared opened the cap and took a giant swig of it. Dean made a face at him. "Ew, dude! Use a cup." Jared put the orange juice back, his face remaining impassive.

"It's my house and the rule is no cups when drinking orange juice. As far as your ass, well, It  _is_ a fantastic one." Jared gave an experimental squeeze, making Dean blush. "Like art, really. Cas is one lucky angel."

Dean sputtered. "S-Shut up. . ."

"Am I interrupting something?" Dean's face burned because Misha was standing at the door, smirk plastered on his face as he watched the scene before him. Dean scrambled, trying to escape but Jared just held tighter.

"Just admiring the beauty that is Jensen Ackles' rear." Excitement lit up on Misha's face.

"Oh are we doing that again?" Again?! Misha pranced over stopping in front of Jared and soon Dean felt much colder hands fondle his ass and he blushed even more hotly because  _Misha was groping his ass_.

The man squeezed firmly and calculatingly through his jeans, hands never leaving even as he started speaking again. Dean flushed hotly in embarrassment, his personal bubble never being breached so thoroughly.

"On a scale from one to Ryan Gosling, I give this particular posterior an 8.5"

"Only 8.5?!" Dean complained, glaring at Misha from behind. He was pretty sure his ass was one of his more redeeming qualities and worth way more than an 8.5 on the Gosling scale.

"Well I don't know everything about it yet, so I can't score fairly." Dean flushed at the implication of the words.  _Yet._

"Oh my god. . ." Dean was mortified, because normal people didn't just  _talk_ like that, did they? Misha was grinning from ear to ear. Jared looked mildly confused.

"What else is there to kno—" Jared started before stopping and cracking up laughing.  _Yet_. . .

If Misha were to do a thorough scoring, how would he do it?

He'd have to take off Dean's pants. . . He'd definitely need to take off his boxers too and what. . . spread his cheeks and have a proper look? Cas had said his hole was a rosy pinkish purple color and he had some freckles down there and. . . Where would that lie on the scoring system? Would it bring his score up or down? Maybe Misha would have to investigate further by putting his fingers inside to test how tight it is or maybe he'd have to taste it—

—Dick Roman in a bikini, Dick Roman kissing him, Dick Roman kissing  _Sam._  He did  _not_ need to pop a woody while wrapped around Jared Padalecki. That would be a whole 'nother world of awkward and even Jared wouldn't be able to deny the awkwardness of it. No, he needed to control himself never mind the fact that he kinda liked the thought of Misha's tongue buried in his ass, wet and hot—

—Dick Roman frenching  _Cas_. . . Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

"O-Kay, you perverts, molesting Dean time is officially over. I'm going to bed now goodnight." He extricated himself from Jared and proceeded to flop face down on the couch, trying to conceal any problems that had the potential to proverbially  _arise_. He wrapped the blanket tightly around his form and burrowed his way into the soft leather, hoping it would just swallow him.

Jared and Misha both left saying goodnights and Dean was alone.

Misha hadn't said  _anything_ about the happenings of earlier and what the hell, did he not hear anything Jared and Dean had talked about? Dean probably came off as the most hetero man's man on the show so far and he was pretty sure he'd outed himself in multiple ways since morning and Misha had no questions at  _all_ for him? It was weird. Fuckin' weird and he didn't understand Misha at  _all_.

He turned on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling and wondering what it was going to take to figure that man out. Everything Misha did just added one more piece to the puzzle and Dean was quickly losing ground.

Luckily the sofa was comfortable enough that he didn't have to worry about it for too much longer before sleep took all of his problems away.

::

Breakfast in the morning came as early as promised, and Donna took absolutely none of Dean's shit when he'd told her he'd eat later. She grabbed his ear painfully, reminding him a lot of Ellen—literally dragging him off the couch and into the kitchen saying she hadn't spent the morning on breakfast so he could sleep through it.

He hadn't been allowed to sit down until he washed up, cleaning under his nails too because Donna would have none of that at her table and Dean wouldn't even dream of reminding her that it was Jared's table lest she end up throwing him over her knee and he didn't doubt the woman would fuckin'  _do_ it.

He sat down and waited patiently for the rest of the house to come down, lured to the table by the smell of a home-cooked meal. Misha was as mute as ever, unable to function in the morning until he had a good amount of food and/or coffee in his system. Jared was just happy to eat anything and everything he could reach.

Dean hadn't noticed how subdued his eating habits had become since he wound up here. Maybe he wasn't nearly as voracious as Jared Padalecki, but Dean Winchester could appreciate good food and was always one of the first ones done.

Now, it seemed, he took a lot more time with his meals, slowly chewing each bite and allowing the flavor to soak in thoroughly. His anxiety spiked a little as he watched Alan and Josh eat at the same leisurely pace and he realized this was Jensen's way of eating. It was a habit combined with muscle memory, so Dean didn't really have much of a choice here and he decided perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad habit to have, anyways. Sam had always scolded him for scarfing down his food, saying it was bad for digestion or some hippy crap like that.

Alan spoke then, catching Dean off-guard. "Jared tells me you've decided to continue acting, Jensen. Eager to get back in the game? It must be a bit daunting since you don't remember any of your acting career."

"Y-Yeah I think it would be good to just take it on. I guess Supernatural is a big part of my life, and quitting now would mean Jensen taking a hit to his career." Dean bit his lip, remembering to stop using so much third person when talking.  _You're Jensen. Be Jensen!_  "I don't know much about my life, but I know I wouldn't go down without fighting, even if I thoroughly sucked at acting it would have been better than doing nothing. We tried it and these guys think I'm not half bad so I'm gonna keep doing it." Alan grinned, nodding.

"Well good on you, Jensen. I'm happy to see your determination wasn't lost in the accident." Alan called him Jensen. Most of the family and friends seemed to call him Jen or Jens most of the time, but this man called him Jensen always. Dean supposed a parent would want to call their kid by their given name since they were the one to pick it. It was weird having people shorten his name. He was always used to his one syllable name that couldn't really be shortened. Was it really that hard to say two syllables anyways? Jensen was a lot manlier than Jen! He almost wanted to hug the man for saying it properly.

Okay, not almost.  _Down Jensen, I ain't ready for daddy hugs yet._

Shortly after breakfast, and another Ackles' sandwich, Jensen's— _his_ family left to go check in at their hotel. Rachel called asking if she could meet with them so she could figure out their current situation. The network was wary about letting Jensen act because his mind wasn't one-hundred percent where it needed to be, so she had to write up a report saying he was fit to act. Dean rolled his eyes, resigning himself to a day full of bullshit. Really, he was kind of nervous.

This was his  _manager_. She was the person who decided what Jensen even did with his life. She was an influential figure who had a lot of pull with the producers and his career was literally on the line with this meeting. He had little to no time to prepare and he'd better not fuck this up.

Dean couldn't just be a hunter if this acting thing didn't work out. This was all he apparently knew. other than douchey modeling jobs and working at Bobby's salvage, and he was pretty sure he needed more than that and excellent blow jobs to put on a resume to find a suitable job.

::

Rachel was small.

She looked to be about half the size of Jared and she wore just shy of too much makeup. Her hair was reddish brown and done in what must have been what they call a manicured 'messy bun', only it was just too shiny. She had on a blue pencil skirt and suit jacket with a neon green blouse underneath and her smile was so wide when she saw him. Dean thought he might be blinded by the whiteness of her teeth.

"Oh you look so much better now, sweetheart. I was so worried when they had you hooked up to all those IVs in the hospital." She fussed over him for a bit, pulling his face down to her level to peck a kiss on his cheek.

She sat down at the couch and Jared brought coffee and some brownies that literally came from nowhere. How Jared always managed to have sweets, Dean would never know.

Rachel dug into her satchel and pulled out a giant stack of papers and files and Dean blanched. This was Jensen's entire career, all stuffed in a little bag. He winced when the stack overbalanced, some papers falling to the floor as though signifying how everything in his life had fallen apart. It wasn't better when she picked the papers up and stuffed them back in all the papers at odds with each other.

"Let's not drag this out longer than it has to be, I'm sure you have better things you would rather be doing than going through technicalities with little ol' me." She rifled through the stack and pulled out a notebook, taking a pen from her pocket. "Now would you be so kind as to tell me what you remember?" Dean spoke to her honestly, telling her he only remembered Supernatural and some of the actors and crew. He was careful not to tell her that his current personality was Dean Winchester, but he gave her as much as he could

She wrote diligently, nodding every once in a while to urge him on. After he was done speaking it was only a minute before she put the notebook down.

"Well I'm not going to sugarcoat it, its bare minimum here, Jen. The CW wants the show to go on, but this is pushing it. You remember the show and that's about it. I don't know if that's going to be enough for them, hon." Dean ground his teeth his hands turning into fists.

"Rachel, I  _need_ this. Like you said, Supernatural isn't enough, so what else would I do? I can't act for another show. I know  _nothing_ about modeling and all that and I have no other technical training. Misha and Jared say I got the stuff it takes to be an actor and I know the plot of Supernatural. Isn't that enough?" She sighed, fingers running through her hair.

"Technically, but the ratings team at the network aren't going to like hearing that a recovering trauma patient with limited memory is going to be starring in one of their top dramas. Jensen, really my hands are tied here." She said, looking for all the world regretful at the situation.

"But isn't there something we can do to pacify them? Seriously, it's not like I'm flyin' blind here." She thought seriously for a moment before speaking again.

"I might be able to swing it, but you'll have to agree to work with an acting coach."

"I already have—"

"A  _certified_ acting coach. He or she will give the CW reports of your progress and you won't be allowed to film the series until the coach and the network deem you capable." She sighed, looking at him seriously. "Jensen, we need hardcore proof that you can function as an actor. This is crucial to securing your spot here. I need you to be on board with this or they're going to put the series on hiatus until you're fit to act again." He clenched his fists harder but slowly nodded in concession.

"I understand."

"Good." She smiled, softly, almost apologetically. "Now, just because you're acting is put on hold, doesn't mean we can cancel your schedule for the rest of the year. I'm going to go over the various things we have going on in the next few months. If Jensen can be trusted, your schedule should be all in your phone, but I'll go over it with you anyways."

She pulled out a sheet that seemed to have a bunch of dates on it.

"its convention season and we've already got through Comicon, JIBcon and Vancon, we just need to get through J2UK and we're home-free."

"What's a J2UK?" He asked, shaking his head. She grinned.

"J2UK? Jensen and Jared, United Kingdom. . . It's not as stupid as it sounds." Dean rolled his eyes as she explained conventions in detail. He'd been to one. . .  _kind of_ , back then. It was for the books Chuck had written and there was all sorts of crazy crap—Roleplaying and the like, fans dressing up like them everywhere and pretending to be hunters. Apparently the TV show was a lot more popular than those books, though. They frequently did international conventions and J2UK was going to be in London of all places. There would be more people than Dean had ever seen gathered in one place and all sorts of people touching him and taking pictures and autograph sessions. It was going to be crazy and Dean suddenly felt nauseas. Dean was no celebrity. . . How would he get through the next few months?

"J2UK won't be happening until after we air. We'll be well into filming by then assuming everything goes smoothly. You  _are_ still planning on shooting on time right?" He nodded, swallowing his nerves.

"Yeah."

"Okay. I have my work cut out for me, but I do understand how important this is. Acting is Jensen's life and he would do anything for this show. I know he'd want to film if at all possible so I want to make this happen for you, okay?" She looked sincere and Dean felt grateful he had somebody batting so hard for him here.

"I really do appreciate this, Rachel. Jensen really knows how to pick his team." She grinned up at him, standing up and shaking his hand firmly.

"Now if only he would stop avoiding my calls. . ." Dean swallowed guiltily, the few times she'd called had been pushed to the back of his mind and now brought to light. It wasn't Dean's fault he was a problem avoider! They wrote him that way, after all.

"Right, well, let me know what the big guys say soon, okay?"

"You'll know when I know, sweetheart."

She hugged him tightly, wishing him well before departing and Dean smiled. He was surrounded by so many people who cared about him it was crazy. He'd only ever had a few people he could really count on in his life, and while that was all the support he'd needed, well now he realized that it was kind of like fighting a bear with a dagger when it'd be so much easier to have a 9mm in his pocket.

::

Acting that day was more technical than anything and Dean suddenly felt like he was in school. Jared and Misha took on a very serious tone when he'd told them he was going to be audited by an acting coach.

When Jared took out his phone and stared recording, the nervousness started to surface.

It wasn't that he wasn't confident he could do this, but he wasn't confident he could do it as well as Jensen. What if when he looked at the playback he saw that Jensen Ackles played himself better than he did?

It was an emotional scene and they brought out the fake knives as they re-enacted the first time Dean met Cas.

Misha graveled out his lines flawlessly, sending chills up Dean's spine as the ex-hunter tried studiously to ignore the camera, fake-stabbing Misha in the chest. He looked up into those intense blue eyes that bore into him like he was looking into Dean's very soul and he was brought back. Back to that fear, the excitement, the intensity. He remembered hearing the blood pumping violently against his eardrums, his heart pounding in his chest when he realized this was a monster he had no experience with—Not one hope to defeat. This was an  _angel_ , a goddamn holy angel of the freakin'  _Lord_ and way above his pay grade. He didn't even notice Jared's camera in his face as he stared in wonder at the being before him.

He swallowed thickly, feeling that fear again when he remembered hearing Cas's true-voice for the first time and how it almost collapsed his ear drums.

When Jared yelled cut with a giant grin on his face, Dean stumbled back, coming out of that place and back into what was allegedly the 'real world'. Jared plugged the phone into his big TV and Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest when he saw his face on screen.

On screen, he could see himself shaking like a damn whore in church as he realized that Jared was filming. He looked like he'd just swallowed a fucking lung or something— _Breathe Dean, for Christ's sake it's just a camera. . ._

But then, as Misha started talking, his eyes blue and intense, Dean could see himself visibly relax and he tried not to blush at how obvious it was, but he couldn't help it. Dean fell into his lines, his voice still a bit shaky but clearing up as he grew more confident. He could almost see his face flash in recognition at the situation, recalling the feelings from before and using that as a catalyst and even Dean had to admit how eerie it was seeing himself slip into acting mode so abruptly.

Jared paused the recording.

"This here?" Jared gestured to the screen. Dean barely remembered to close his mouth before the man began to speak again. "This is where you find your headspace, Dean. It's visible how clearly you can remember the experience and suddenly the scene goes flawlessly." He presses play again and Dean stares in wonder at the emotion on his face, the fear and the wariness of Castiel's appearance. It sends chills up his spine because it almost seems  _too_ flawless. It was too real and he was sure it couldn't be him up there. That was Jensen. It had to be. . . But it wasn't, because Jensen hadn't done the episode like that.

He remembered watching it and Jensen hadn't. . . It wasn't like that. Jensen was taking himself and becoming something completely different, and Dean Winchester was born. When Dean did the scene, it was just another day in his life.

"It's too real." He heard himself say quietly. Jared looked at him, interest spiking.

"What?"

"This. It's too much. This isn't how real acting is." He sat down, burying his face in his hands because  _fuck_. He was never going to get this. It wasn't going to work. "I'm cheating. I'm using my experience and I'm not going to always have that, am I? When I get possessed by a monster or a demon or some other shit that fucks with my mind, I'm not going to have a clue how to do this. I need to learn how to do this without the Dean Winchester handicap." Jared raised his eyebrow in surprised.

"You're right. I'm impressed you could see that." He walked back to the TV, taking his phone back from it before sitting next to Dean on the couch.

"The coach isn't going to let you read lines from Supernatural when he gauges your acting skill." Jared turned seriously to Dean. "He's going to give you a script, you'll be expected to memorize it and execute it in that character." Misha sighed, folding his arms behind his head and laying back into the couch, his voice hard and more serious than Dean had ever heard it.

"As it is, you're simply being yourself and remembering the things you said. It's impressive, but it's not what the coach is going to be looking for." Misha turned to look at him, catching his gaze and holding it. "The CW is going to be measuring your worth as an actor and, while it's a tough thing to say, right now we don't know if you'll cut it." Dean swallowed thickly, the panic gripping his stomach like a vice.

He couldn't do this, not by himself. He had no idea how to be an actor and he was going to ruin this. He was going to fuck it up and Jensen was going to be canned. It was pathetic, the only thing Dean knew he could do in this fucked up universe and he was going to fuck it up before he even started it.

But there was Jared and Misha. . . They were his. . . well Jensen's friends. They were kind to him and they helped him and Dean hated to sound like a baby here but. . . Well, hadn't Jared said that they would always back him up? This was his life and he wasn't about to just give up. He had options here and even he wasn't dumb enough not to see that.

His voice was tight when he spoke, like it was taking everything in the world to swallow his pride and just get the words out that he rarely ever said. "You guys, I need your help.

::

The rest of the afternoon they spent going over random screenplays and doing some basic character analysis. Dean was told that, to act effectively, he needed to get into a character's head and empathize with it to the point where it related to him on an emotional level. They spent hours reading into all of these skits and drawing characterization based on dialogue.

They spent a whole hour talking about a character named Nancy Baker and imagining her life based on the words that she used:

_Nancy: I have no intention of sending that boy back to that school, Jacob. I knew I should have homeschooled him from the start. Jesus would be turning in his grave if he knew what he did; Seducing Mr. Jacobs like that. Maybe I should have remarried before I went to that orphanage. Ain't nothin' but mistakes and regret come from a place like that._

Dean had hated her from the start, not wanting to try and empathize with such a bigoted woman, but Jared insisted it was crucial—especially in a situation like this, or nobody would ever be able to play her character.

They derived an entire backstory for her first, how she must have grown up on a farm, kept in the house, doing the laundry and cooking with their Momma while her brother John worked with their Pa. Her sisters Mary and Caitlyn played with their dollies and, though she wanted to play too, her mother had insisted that she was an adult now and big girls didn't play with dolls.

Nancy loved dolls. Nancy made dresses for them, sometimes dresses that her Ma would never let her wear; Something about the devil being tempted by flesh and possessing men to take a woman by force should she tempt him like that. She'd end up ruined for marriage and she'd be alone the rest of her life.

She was whipped when Momma found the dress she'd made for herself—One she'd promised God she would never wear. She'd just wanted to admire it, but Momma told her lust would turn into sin and she wouldn't tolerate that in her house.

Nancy Baker didn't make dresses ever again.

Suddenly Dean understood her character so much more. It made sense and it was easy to see how she became this way. He could feel her anger and regret, how easy it was to be bitter towards others that exhibited similar behavior. She knew the devil was in them and it was shameful that nobody corrected them sooner.

She was so much better than them. . .

Suddenly he felt sick, her anger and hate gripping him tightly and Jared pulled him back, patting him on the shoulder and laughing.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Dean didn't know quite what he was referring to, how easy it was to think like a hateful bitch, or how difficult it was to separate himself from that persona. Misha sat down next to him, serious look on his face.

"Some roles can really fuck with your head if you aren't careful about it. I'm still convinced that Heath Ledger was destroyed by playing the Joker. He did it flawlessly and they say it messed with him so much he couldn't take it. You have to know when to take a step back and become yourself again.".

"Jensen sometimes struggles with that. . ." Jared's voice was slow as he connected his gaze with Misha. Both men were silent and Dean looked between them as it seemed like they were sharing something he wasn't a part of and he got the distinct feeling you get when someone's talking shit behind your back.

"How about we wrap this up and get some dinner." He suggested, not liking the serious atmosphere the afternoon had taken on.

::

A few boxes of Chinese takeout later and Jared's laptop was on Dean's lap as he sat looking up various gag reels so he could see Jensen's transition from Jensen to Dean more in detail. He deduced that work never actually got done during filming and Jensen was a complete terrorist, always instigating the giggles and was altogether a really bad influence. He was just as bad, if not worse than Jared at being a distraction and this was one defining personality trait that Dean couldn't identify with.

He decided that later, maybe tomorrow he'd try to draw up a characterization for Jensen and see what he could do with that concerning acting and if Jared and Misha would buy it.

He found himself on YouTube eventually—everybody usually did when it came to the internet—looking up more conventions and interviews and learning more about what was quickly becoming his crazy life.

It was weird watching himself on stages that he didn't remember being on, giving interviews he'd never given. Jensen really wasn't all too different from him. The weirdest thing was watching these things and already kind of knowing the responses Jensen would give. That only proved further that Dean was really actually Jensen and it was really freakin' weird. He felt like some sort of clairvoyant and  _that_ was one word he never thought he'd be able to apply to himself.

He'd watched a panel that was at some sort of convention. He couldn't believe all of the things Jensen did there in front of a crowd of people. It was all done with such confidence and charisma that Dean couldn't imagine having in front of so many people. And Misha! The way they played together without a care in the world just brought home how closed off Dean really was. He couldn't imagine ever touching a man so openly, let alone give  _kisses_  and receive them without freaking out.

This was it. This was the man behind his character. This man had taken a piece of paper and literally gave Dean life and it was so surreal watching him use his body to do all these silly things.

And then there was the dancing. . .

Misha had challenged Jensen into something as a resume-off—They listed all the ridiculous things found on their resumes. Dean laughed as Jensen proved his dancing skills and he wasn't sure whether to be impressed or embarrassed by how well the man used their hips. Dean could dance, but it wasn't like that. . . Or was it?

He stood up, searching his phone for music and Dean grimaced as he was met with an onslaught of country. There were a few good tunes there, very few of the classic rock he liked but he managed to find a couple songs to dance to. He chose  _Somethin' 'bout a truck_ by Kip Moore and the beat sank into him and he found that he didn't mind it so much, he even kind of liked it and that was frightening. His foot started tapping, and in no time he started to rotate his hips to the beat. Muscle memory must have had its limits, because he felt completely ridiculous. He was about to stop when he heard a throat clearing itself. He jumped, his heart leaping with him and getting stuck somewhere in his throat.

"Auditioning for Dancing With the Stars already?" Misha was behind him wearing a shit-eating grin and Dean flipped him off, red-faced and embarrassed to beat all hell. The man chuckled and walked over to sit down on the couch, picking up Dean's phone (Jensen's phone) and looking at it.

"Jensen is rather fond of Country music, isn't he? It must frustrate you."

"Weirdly enough, it doesn't. It would on a regular basis but it's like it's ingrained in this dude's soul or something." He crossed his arms, sitting on the couch a good two feet away from Misha. He felt exposed and he hated that feeling.

"Jared told me you were doing some soul-separating." Misha grinned, sitting next to him. "That's great, Dean. At least now you're aware of Jensen." Dean rolled his eyes, slouching against the back of the couch.

"Yeah, now if only the dude would get over his mensies and drive his own damn body, that'd be great." Misha raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"You really think he's emotionally repressed himself?" Dean ground his teeth, looking at the oak coffee table as he spoke.

"Yeah. . . I mean there's a lot of screwed up crap in his life. I wouldn't want to deal with it either." Misha furrowed his brow, looking confused. Shit.

"What do you mean, screwed up?" Dean bit his lip, looking away.

"N-Nothing, I mean. . . There's a lot of drama with his girlfriend and it's gotta be difficult to come back to." Not a lie. . . just a diversion! He couldn't tell Misha he suspected Jensen might be gay and that Misha had a giant crush on him. Speaking of. . . Perhaps he shouldn't be so distant. He needed to gauge the man's reactions, not avoid them. He leaned over, grabbing his bottle of water and sitting back down marginally closer to Misha.

"Girlfriend drama is tough." Misha said, conversationally.

"You know all about it huh?" Dean laughed, watching Misha closely for reactions. If he wasn't used to staring contests with Cas, he might not have noticed the darkness flickering in that flawless mask the man wore all the time.

"I wouldn't claim to be an expert, but I know enough to get by." Misha said evasively, offering nothing more than that and it frustrated Dean. He pressed further.

"So you seeing anyone?"

"Not at the moment." Okay. Single. And no more information offered. Dean felt his anxiety rise just a little bit because it was becoming more and more possible that Misha liked him. He needed to get the elephant out of the room.

"You into dudes, then?" Misha laughed.

"I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult. Am I so good looking that the only reason I can't be seeing someone is because I was gay?" Dean blushed, choking on his water slightly when he realized that gay accusation wasn't really the best follow up question to Misha's response.

"N-No I meant. . . earlier with the thing and then  _this_." He wiped at the makeup on his neck, hopefully revealing the dark bruise that Misha had left on him. Misha sighed, closing his eyes.

"I'm going to need something stronger than water if we're going to talk about  _this_." Misha got up rifling in a cupboard next to the stereo system in the corner of the room before pulling out a bottle of Jack and Dean grinned.

"That's what I'm talking about!" He said excitedly, taking a shot glass eagerly after Misha filled it to the top.

"Big, gay freak-outs are best handled with whiskey." Misha in a very matter-of-factly tone. Dean grinned. Was that confession?

"Don't I know it." He responded, tipping his glass into his mouth and letting the whiskey burn down his throat. Misha snapped his gaze sharply at Dean at that. Dean felt his ears pinking slightly, but he kept his cool. It wasn't an accident that he said that. He was going to have to tell Misha eventually and now would be the best time to do it. He avoided the blue gaze as steadfastly as possible. "Me and Cas. . . yeah it's a thing." He could almost  _hear_ Misha's brows shoot up.

"Are you fucking serious?" Dean knew the gravity of this announcement. This was Misha's character he was talking about. Misha's character was going to find himself in a homosexual relationship with one of the main characters of the show and his status of the show would be completely different now. If he wasn't a star of the show before, he surely would be now.

"Y-Yeah it's pretty serious." He saw out of the corner of his eye Misha down his shot in one gulp, rubbing his hands over his face.

"And what we did? And then everything. . ." He gestured vaguely to his face and Dean felt his heart clench because yeah seeing his lover's face every day and knowing it wasn't really him, wasn't ever  _going_ to be him kind of sucked. Kind of really sucked. He bit his lip, gaze cast downward.

"It's been hard, yeah. I'm sorry I freaked out but it was just too much. . . And then you laughed and I. . . I thought you already knew and I was so  _pissed_." Dean busied himself, pouring them another glass, avoiding Misha's concerned, pitiful gaze.

"Dean. . . My God, Dean I don't even know what to say. How do you even look at me?" Dean looked then, seeing the sadness and regret in his eyes and he laughed nervously.

"What has your panties all twisted? You know nothing about me and Cas."

"If it was going in the way I'd  _hoped_ it would go, then I know you've always been head over heels for that angel." Misha emptied his glass once more, scrunching up his face at the taste.

"You too? Seriously? Why does everybody think I'm gay?!" Dean did the same. "Look, it was hard seeing your face—You and Jared both but I'm used to it now. . . Besides I'd rather see his face than not see it. What we had is something I won't soon forget." He bit down his sadness, not wanting to go there tonight.

"I knew you were still a better love story than Twilight. Gonna be a shock to the fanbase to find out Dean's really into men though." Misha winked before pouring himself and Dean another shot. Dean took it gratefully and knocked it back. He felt the tension leave his shoulders and his mind get pleasantly fuzzy with the alcohol in his system.

"A  _man_. Singular. Besides, you're one to talk. It doesn't get much gayer getting off rubbing your dick against another dick." Misha downed his drink, wiping the bit that missed his mouth.

"It was surprising how easy it was." Misha looked at him in a lingering way before turning his hazy gaze back to his empty glass, as though the answers to all his questions might be hidden in there somewhere.

"Right? You go your entire life with nothin' but tits and then the moment a sexy angel has you pinned against the wall you lose your shit and come harder than. . . than. . ." The booze was already loosening his lips, deleting his English and he supposed he should slow down after that. Misha chuckled, pouring himself another drink. Just how high was this guy's tolerance anyways? He wasn't even slurring his words.

"Is that how it happened? I've always imagined Castiel had a pinning-Dean-against-walls fetish."

"Oh he does. . . amongst other thin's." He blushed, closing his eyes as he remembered a number of Castiel's kinks. "He loved it when I prayed dirty to 'im." Misha clapped his knee, giggling and bumping Dean's shoulder.

"Did they seriously write that in the script?"

"How should I know? Issonly what I remember so I'm asshuming they did. Some of the thin's I'd pray to 'im though, don' know how they'd let that on tel'vision. . ." Misha froze and Dean looked over to see his face red and, maybe it was the whiskey, but Dean wondered if Misha was imagining all the filthy things Dean would say:

_Cas. . . I need you. I'm so hard but I don't wanna get off without your dick inside of me._

_Want it fast and rough. Want you to pin me down to the bed and fuck me stupid. I bet you like hearing me beg for it, don't you?_

_Bet your cock is hard thinking about my hole all stretched and slicked up already just for you—_

Dean bit his lip thinking how little control Cas would have when he'd finally appear. Dean wouldn't walk straight for days—and the bruises!

He vaguely noticed his jeans getting tight. . . Damn, obviously he wasn't drunk enough to put a hamper on  _that_. Misha was looking now and that piqued Dean's interest. He shifted, making it obvious that he was uncomfortably hard and failing at trying to hide it. He saw Misha swallow before looking away. Dean grinned, pouring another drink and sipping it slowly, letting a bit drip down his lips, watching Misha the whole time.

He felt it roll down his neck and Misha was watching again, blue eyes dark with lust.

"So you never been with a dude?" He said, his voice a little rougher than usual and he could see it visibly  _do_ things to Misha.

"No. . ." Dean set his glass down, feeling his mind become a bit foggy. He didn't want to get hammered so he laid back on the couch. He still wanted to be alluring though so he spread his legs in the manner that always seemed to drive Cas nuts. He let his hand rest lazily on his groin as he looked at Misha, slurring his words badly now.

"Issalright. Dicks take some gettin' used to. . . but the sex is hot."

"D-Do you prefer to be um. . ." Misha seemed to have a little difficulty finding his words. Luckily Dean was still there enough to fill in the blanks.

"Do I prefer to take it up the ass or give it?" He raised his eyebrow, smirking. Thank God he had some booze in him, because now wasn't the time to sugar coat it. "I love it in my ass. . . Love feelin' the stretch an' all full when he puts all of it in me. . .an' then when he hits that  _spot_. . ." Dean moaned, feeling his cock twitch.  _Down boy, we're only messing with Misha. Don't expect to get any action tonight._  He knew his jeans were tented lewdly now, even Misha wouldn't be able to miss it and he could see his hungry gaze raking down his body and stripping him bare.

"R-Right. . ." Misha coughed uncomfortably, standing up. He stumbled and fell backward right on top of Dean and Dean wondered if his life was just doomed to be some cheesy sitcom because they were flush together and Misha's limbs were like jelly with all the alcohol he'd consumed, making lifting off of Dean virtually impossible. He only managed to turn on his stomach. Dean groaned, feeling Misha's hip come in contact with his groin. Dean's breaths came out in short pants now and Misha lifted his head, letting Dean see the red on his cheeks darkening attractively as the situation dawned on him. "U-Um. . . I'm sorry. Here lemme jus'. . ." Misha shifted, dragging his leg against Dean's cock in the most tantalizing way. Dean bit his lip, trying not to moan and then he felt it. . . The bulge in Misha's pants growing on his leg and Dean looked straight into his eyes and  _when_ did their lips get so close? Misha was breathing heavily now, his cock pressed tightly against Dean's, his pupils all but swallowing the blue of his eyes.

The hunter closed his eyes as he felt Misha grind slightly against him, a desperate sound escaping his lips and Dean wondered what he was going to do. Depending on just how turned on Misha was, Dean might have to intervene. But he had to see just how far Misha would try to take it. He knew they couldn't have a repeat of this morning. Misha looked away, swallowing deeply, his voice like liquid gravel when he spoke. "Sorry. . ." With way more effort than it should have taken, Misha managed to roll himself off Dean, giving the hunter a view of his tented jeans. The actor stood up grabbing onto all the furniture in his reach and managed to hobble to the stairwell. Dean watched as he comically made his way up without killing himself and he sighed.

That man had control like titanium. He was shit-faced drunk and he still had enough mind to stop a potentially sexual situation. Dean hadn't given him any signs of rejection, and Misha's dick was clearly on board with taking the sexy and willing hunter splayed provocatively on the couch, so Dean wondered just why Misha was holding back. Maybe he  _didn't_ like Jensen that way after all? Dean didn't know why that thought left an ache in his chest. . . It wasn't like he  _wanted_ Misha to like him. . . Part of the plan was to let the man down if that had been the case. Jensen had Danneel and Dean was with Cas, or rather he  _would_ be with Cas had he not realized that none of that world actually existed and this was really just Jensen being fucked up.

Then again, Jensen and Danneel seemed tense at the best of times. They were constantly on the outs and well. . . Then there was the whole not being able to get up for her thing. Maybe Misha wasn't the one with the crush. . .

Dean sighed, hiding his face in his hands. He was way too drunk to be thinking about this crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think XD
> 
> POLL: I have two main stories right now and updates are slow. If you like this story and want me to focus exclusively on it, please vote for it here at ff.net: 
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/u/956318/TGyamiBakura


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horribly unbetaed and I apologize. I've had this sitting here forever and I believe you guys deserve it even though i'm not one hundred percent sure it's ready. I can't promise updates any faster than this either so I'm sorry for that, too. I hope you like it regardless.

“Misha knows.” Dean said flatly while sitting at the kitchen table that morning. Jared choked on his coffee a little before looking at Dean in concern.

 

“Knows?” Dean was silent. Jared raised his eyebrows. “ _Knows_ , knows? He knows about you and Cas?”

 

“Yeah we were drinking and it kinda slipped. . .” Jared frowned, turning to face the ex-hunter properly.

 

“Dean those kind of things don’t just 'slip'." Jared said with air quotes. "You _wanted_ to tell him!”

 

“Yeah, well, he’s going to have to find out eventually. It might as well be from me.” Dean laughed hollowly. “Look, man. It seems like Jensen and Misha are pretty good being physically intimate if they want to so, I don’t think it’s going to be any real problem for Misha to be. . . that way with me, but just how comfortable are they? Would Jensen even be cool with this kinda thing?”

 

“Jensen’s a professional, dude. He can do just about anything. I’m just not sure how cool he’d be with Supernatural taking on a romantic aspect, but maybe it’s about time for Dean to settle down anyways.” Jared’s eyebrows scrunched together. “It’s actually a very good idea and I can see how it really expands Dean’s character, I just hope the writers do it right.” Dean pouted.

 

“You realize I’m right here. I should hope they did it right.” Jared smirked.

 

“Oh god this is going to be fun. I hope they make Sam into a giant fan of Cas and Dean being together.”

 

“Well Sam doesn’t know yet. . . Though I’m pretty sure he’s on his way to figuring it out. . . well rather he _was_.” Dean hastily tried to put those dark thoughts out of his mind. It wouldn’t do well to get all angsty right in front of Jared. “A-Anyways, I don’t know how I’m gonna do this with Misha. I mean it wasn’t like I went around kissing Cas in front of other people.”

 

“You’ll just have to practice your on screen chemistry. Jensen and Misha don’t have a problem being physical with each other, and it’s going to reflect if you don’t feel the same.

 

“On-screen chemistry. Right. . . Um where is that guy? Is he still sleeping? I bet he’s feeling like crap. You got any Tylenol?”

 

Jared showed Dean the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and Dean got a few pills and a glass of water and took it upstairs to the room Misha was staying in.

 

Dean entered the dark room, his eyes adjusting and trying to make out where Misha was at. The window was covered with a large blanket, hung to block out the sun.

 

Dean nearly spilled the water he was carrying by tripping over a pile of what must have been clothing and he cursed softly under his breath. Didn’t the guy have a damn hamper or something? He found the nightstand eventually and set the glass and the pills there and turned on the lamp.

 

There was a giant blanket lump on the bed that he assumed was Misha. It groaned as the light flooded into the room, the blankets tightening around him. Dean took a glance around the room, seeing various articles of clothing strewn all over the place, an open suitcase and papers littering the floor. Dean’s lip curled a bit, but he ignored it.

 

“You gotta get up some time today, man.”

 

“I really don’t want to.” Misha complained, his voice muffled by the blanket. Dean laughed. “How are you so chipper, anyways? You drank about as much as I did.” the actor asked.

 

“Apparently Jensen has a pretty high tolerance. I took a shower and I was fine. I already ate breakfast too." Dean stood there, waiting for a response and when he didn't get one, he sighed. "It’s almost noon, already, dude. Get up.” Dean peeled the blanket back and smiled when Misha cowered away from the light, smashing a pillow against his face. “You big baby. Here, I brought you some Tylenol.”

 

“Tylenol fairy.” Misha mumbled through the green pillow.

 

“Yeah, that’s about right. Now come on, sit up and take it.” Dean sat on the bed next to Misha and helped him into a sitting position.

 

“Is that what you tell all the men you get drunk?” Dean smirked.

 

“Only the ones that hump my leg in the early hours of the morning.” Misha downed the pills and took a big drink of water afterwards. He peered up at Dean through his glass

.

“You told me a few things last night.”

 

“I’m surprised you remember.” Dean remarked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

 

“It’d be pretty hard to forget a declaration like that. And then you started describing things. . .”

 

“Yeah well. . . I don’t get to talk to too many people about the. . .erm. . . _other_ side of my preferences.” Dean said, flushing a bit as he remembered all the things he told Misha.

 

“And what a side it is.” Misha observed. “So Castiel and Dean get romantically involved, for real then? That’s wonderful. I actually can’t wait to start filming that.”

 

“You really like the idea?” Dean asked, feeling a bit self-conscious and sitting down on the bed next to Misha, bending a leg atop the bed as the other stretched out onto the floor.

 

“It’s been a long time coming. I didn’t think the writers actually had the balls to do it, to be honest.” Dean looked down at the green sheets, clenching his fingers around it.

 

“So you’re not weird about. . . love scenes, then? I mean. . . I’m a guy.”

 

“I thought we just established that’s not really an issue for me.” Misha’s thumb rubbed that tender spot on Dean’s neck that he'd left and he smirked. The flush rose to Dean’s face and he pulled away, laughing nervously.

 

“R-Right. But I mean. . . Jared had mentioned something about on-screen chemistry and I still get jumpy just at a touch. Jared said Jensen and you are really close so it’s easy but I need more practice before I can get there. People are gonna know otherwise.”

 

“Well I look like Castiel. You don’t have a problem touching him, right?”

 

“Well not when we’re alone but our relationship isn’t exactly public knowledge, alright?” Dean shifted uncomfortably where he sat, avoiding Misha’s sleepy gaze. “I can’t even kiss him in front of my brother, man.” Misha nodded.

 

“We’ll work on it. For now we should probably try to get used to touching each other in front of others.”

 

“Y-Yeah.” Dean felt anxiety rise up in him because that never went over well. He couldn’t even do that with Cas, so how could he do this with someone who wasn’t Cas? Misha smiled, taking his hand and rubbing it soothingly. Dean jumped but forced his hand to stay still. Better at least make an effort to get over this physical intimacy thing.

 

“We’ll start small, okay? How about we just hold hands whenever possible, for now? We’ll work our way up to public kisses later.”

 

“Public kisses? You mean like, in front of people?” Dean laughed because the idea seemed completely ridiculous to him. Misha grinned.

 

“Soon you’ll be able to leave hickeys on me in public. Trust me, Dean. I know what I’m about.” Dean snorted.

 

“Yeah, whatever you say—” Dean was stopped short because soon his lips were being covered by pink, plush, slightly chapped ones that felt just wonderful. Misha’s mouth was soft and warm and the butterflies that rose up in his chest were surprisingly unfamiliar, but he supposed that was because he hadn’t really kissed Cas if it had all just been on a script.

 

He hadn’t really kissed Cas. . . He hadn’t actually been physical with him at all.

 

That cold block of ice formed in his stomach once again and he froze. The unfamiliar press of Misha’s lips, the suction and the heat only served to remind him that his life had been nothing but a scam. He tore away, pushing Misha back and standing up, backing to the door.

 

“Dude you said freakin’ hand holding!” Misha looked like a cat that had just gotten the milk.

 

“I said in public, but all bets are off when it’s just us.” 

 

“That was not the deal! And for fuck’s sake brush your teeth before you kiss someone!”

 

“It feels like a furry animal crawled into my mouth and died.” Misha remarked.

 

“And it smells like it too. Ugh!” Dean stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He leaned back against it, his center of gravity shifting and he couldn’t hold himself upright.

 

His head hit the back of the door and he slid down and hit the floor, the crippling darkness consuming him again.

 

Shit.

 

Shit shit shit shit.

 

Dean had liked that kiss. He’d liked it a lot even though it smelled like ass. It was wrong though. He was with Cas. . . but then he couldn’t be with Cas because Cas didn’t even fucking exist, did he? And as much as that broke his fucking heart there was no escaping that reality. Somehow he had to learn how to deal with that.

 

Dean didn’t even remember what it was like to kiss Castiel. Aside from that, he didn’t even remember what it was like to be kissed at all. That may as well have been his first one! Well. . . If you didn’t count that desperate one Danneel gave him before—That had felt something like kissing a potato. This one actually had Dean’s heart beating faster, his hands getting clammy and his adrenaline spiking through the roof.

 

Mortification colored his cheeks because shit. . . Misha Collins just stole his first kiss!

 

Not Robin, not Castiel, but _Misha._

 

He buried his face in his hands. This wasn’t happening to him. He couldn’t even cheer himself up by wondering how Cas would react to that. He didn’t want to because Dean had actually liked it and he couldn’t simply use the excuse that Misha looked exactly like Cas, could he?

 

It wasn’t like Misha was anything like his.  . . his angel.

 

He had memories of being sexual with Castiel and he knew it felt good. Sex was great and with Castiel, it had been even better. Castiel had smelled like what he imagined a rainforest smelled like, felt soft but strong. Gentle words were always spoken in a harsh voice.

 

Dean's hands parted and he looked up in wonder. Now that he thought of it, he had words to describe the feelings but not the actual memory of feeling it. He couldn’t remember what it was like to have those soft fingers touching him, those beautiful eyes watching him.

 

That sweet mouth kissing him.

 

He couldn’t remember any of it.

 

He had all these memories but now he could see just how false they were. His body didn’t actually remember any of it. Dean felt robbed. Those were his experiences but they had been taken away from him because they actually weren’t. His love for Castiel was merely the product of somebody else’s fantasy.

 

Dean supposed he’d do well to remember that, but he couldn’t just throw in the towel and deny what he felt for Castiel, because he _did_ love him. Whoever wrote him, Castiel, this. . . Well it was a damn good piece of literature because it felt so painstakingly real to Dean and it was more important than anything that he keep this feeling alive.

 

Castiel wasn’t just ink on paper to him. Castiel was his _life_.

 

As much as Sam and more because Castiel had been Dean’s light at the end of the tunnel. Castiel had been the reason why Dean stopped walking in John’s footsteps and started living for himself. Castiel showed Dean that he was a life worth saving.

 

Castiel taught Dean that he deserved to be happy and Dean knew that, even if Castiel had died, he wouldn’t be able to love another like this ever again. Why should this be any different? What he knew now changed nothing about who Dean was because of Cas. Castiel had still left a mark on him and whether he existed or not, Dean still loved him and he would swear his heart to Castiel. He would, even if they were just characters written in a story.

 

Dean owed him that much.

 

::

 

 

The next few days consisted of nothing but rigorous training because Dean would be meeting with the acting coach on Wednesday. By the end of day two, Dean really understood the meaning of professionals. Misha and Jared seemed to have endless stamina and apparently Dean did too because he was managing to keep up with them, but just barely.

 

They did countless lines from plays Dean may or may not have recognized. They did characterization, singing and dancing and there was just so much _exercise._ It was a wonder how Dean wasn’t snapped in two.

 

Instead of three big meals, they ate a little bit every few hours so they could keep their strength up. Dean was made to sleep in 2 hour naps and not long periods of time, which he supposed he should have been used to, but apparently Jensen wasn’t. He was tired and, as much as he hated the idea of drinking hipster coffee, Starbucks quickly became his favorite past time.

 

All of this work wasn’t without its product. Dean could now not only recite lines by memory after reading a script only a few times, but he wasn’t saying lines flatly now.

 

He could take any piece of dialogue and turn it into a heated conversation. He could make a confession and turn it into a heartfelt declaration of love. He was versed in the art of dramatics and he was a damn good dancer if he did say so himself.

 

“Xavier doesn’t know that Holly left town, Mark. It’s not a matter of if he’ll go after her, but when.” Robert Harris insisted, looking at Detective Bates. The detective with his long hair and even longer legs rolled his eyes.

 

“Well what do you expect us to do, Robert? We can’t stake out a perp unless we have some sort of substantial proof that he’s pursuing her.”

 

“You realize that girl’s going to get raped, right?” Tanner’s green eyes flashed, fists clenching at his sides. He’d been working in the department for only a few months, but his instincts had never been wrong. “The longer we stand around here chit-chatting, the more ground he has on her. I don’t care about procedures and bull-shit. I’m in the business of saving lives. Holly is worth more than this.” He stormed out, not looking back because he didn’t care if they were going to follow or not. That girl wasn’t getting killed or worse on his watch.

 

“Great job dude that was totally realistic!” Tanner felt a hand clap him on the shoulder and he wrenched himself away, ready to knock that asshole into next Tuesday.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me, Bates! I’m up to here with your shit—” Bates stepped back, his hand’s up and eyebrows raised in concern.

 

“Woah, come back, man.” Oh. He wasn’t. . . This was Jared.

 

Tanner—No Dean. . . Dean. He was Dean. Christ. “Shit, sorry. Guess I got pretty into it.” Jared drew his eyebrows together in concern before shrugging.

 

“You just need to work on separating yourself from your characters. We’ll work on it.”

 

And work on it, they did.

 

Dean’s biggest challenge was snapping out of character. They all weren’t as bad as that time, but some were worse.

 

Sometimes he would half come out of it, where he would recognize himself as Dean but still find himself acting in the same manner one of his script characters would. He would go on like that for hours until either Jared or Misha noticed. It was easy to come out of it once he was made aware but it was still concerning that he was even having such an issue.

 

Misha suggested putting more of himself into the characters he portrayed and that helped. There was less to separate when Dean was already present to begin with. On the other side, some characters were almost impossible to put any part of himself into. Completely different personalities. Different, but at the same time completely likely had Dean been any less sane.

 

Those were the ones that he had a hard time with, and Jared mentioned that that was one of the reasons why actors didn’t always take every role they were offered. Dean wasn’t the only one to have problems separating and they imagined that was part of the reason why he was in this predicament in the first place.

 

That Jensen could bury his own consciousness and replace it with Dean so effectively was a big indicator of that.

 

The only thing Dean was worried about was playing a character and suddenly not being able to separate. He wondered if Jensen ever worried about that. Would it kill him if he knew that was exactly what ended up happening?

 

As they sat down for their mid-morning break on Tuesday, Misha instantly grabbed his hand. They had started the hand-holding thing the very day Misha had his terrible hangover. It was a little embarrassing for Dean to be holding hands everywhere like that--it made him feel like he was five years old--but he got used to it. They’d been doing it all the time between scenes and Dean didn’t blush now, even when Jared was in the room. The butterflies still persistently cropped up in his belly because Misha would notice random things about him. That break, he thread their fingers together and brought Dean's cold hand to his warm cheek. It was sweet and thoughtful and Dean would have to force down his smile every time it happened.

 

“You’re so cold.” He remarked.

 

“Yeah, well Jared keeps his house at negative what the fuck degrees.”

 

“I get hot!” Jared complained walking away out of the living room. Misha rolled his eyes.

 

“Just because you live amongst Canadians doesn’t mean you need to behave like one.”

 

“Hey! My future kids are going to be Canadians!” Jared shouted from the kitchen which was where Jared was found most of the time. He wasn’t very good at adhering to the small meals every few hours rule. He was a firm believer in snack time all the time. He came back out with heaping bowl of goldfish Dean had no doubt he would eat all by himself. Misha groaned, putting his face in his hands.

 

“Oh god, he’s planning to breed.” Jared huffed sitting on the couch.

 

“And what? You’re not?”

 

“I honestly believe that just because we can have children, it doesn’t necessarily mean we should. Can you imagine my children? They’d be miniature overlords in the making. I’d build a giant empire where my spawn do all my evil bidding.” Jared shrugged.

 

“Likely. What about you, Dean?” He asked with a mouthful of goldfish. “You were pretty much like a dad to Ben. . . then again you have been a father. For a day. Then she tried to kill you. . .” Dean balled his fist, more dark feelings clawing their way to the surface and he didn’t need to go there.

 

“I really don’t want to talk about that. One of the perks of being with Cas was that I could have as much sex as I could handle and I didn’t have to worry about any brats coming into the picture. Ever. I’d like to keep it that way.”

 

“So you’re not planning on sleeping with women ever again?” Misha asked, eyebrows raised. “What about Danneel?” Another subject he’d rather not broach.

 

“What about her?” Dean snapped, his mood already on the rocks because he didn’t like this conversation.

 

“Well she’s kind of Jensen’s girlfriend of six years. . .”

 

“Yeah well I can’t imagine why. I can’t even get it up for her.” Misha’s eyebrows raised even further and Dean really needed to figure out how to keep his mouth shut.

 

“What?” Dean said indignantly, looking away before he spoke.

“She tried to get a reaction out of me while I was at your apartment, but nothing happened downstairs. She noticed, got upset, and left.”

 

“Well you’d just woken up from a coma.”

 

“Pretty sure that wasn’t the issue. It felt like kissing wet cardboard. Just the thought of it makes me cringe. Has Jensen ever come out to you guys? Cause I’m getting some serious gay vibes from this dude.”

 

“There’s been no reason for us to suspect Jensen might be gay, Dean." Jared said, raising a concerned eyebrow. "He’s the straightest one of all of us. You still like women, right?”

 

“Well I thought I did. . .” Dean tried to imagine the last issue of Busty Asian Beauties he read but he couldn’t seem to remember it. He tried to remember the last diner girl on a hunt—The one with the big tits and cute smile and it didn’t seem to do anything for him. “Yeah I got nothing. . .” Misha looked at him thoughtfully before speaking.

 

“But you can get it up for a man?” Jared asked incredulously. Misha looked at him knowingly and Dean tried his hardest not to blush because damn. . . Jared didn’t need to know about the little grinding session he got up to with Misha. Just the thought had heat stirring up low in his belly and he had better reroute his thoughts unless he wanted to provide physical evidence.

 

“Y-Yeah. . . I mean if I try.” Dean coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dick Roland sucking him off--

 

\--Okay ew.

 

Jared shared a worried glance with Misha before turning back to Dean. “Well either way, what’s important is getting you through your first audit. We can worry about that other stuff later.” He grinned. “Think you’re ready?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. Just hope they don’t give me any off-the-chart characters.”

 

“It should be pretty mild. I know you’ll do great.” Misha was smiling at him as he spoke and Dean felt those traitorous butterflies start flapping around again. He didn’t dare smile back lest it look weird and dorky.

 

“Thanks, man.”

 

“What are we doing for dinner?” Jared asked. Dean's eyes widened.

 

“You just ate a pound of goldfish! How are you already thinking about food?”

 

“Survival instincts, Dean. Keep up.” Dean glared.

 

“Well I heard Osric and Felicia are in town.” Misha said idly. “We could call ‘em up and see if they want to go out tonight.” Dean was suddenly inexplicably excited. He didn’t know who these people were— _Osric?_ You had to be fucking kidding. Misha seemed to notice Dean’s confused look and his mouth opened a bit in understanding. “Right. You don’t know who they are. Osric plays Kevin and Felicia plays Charlie.” Oh man. . . Kevin and Charlie. Last time he remembered seeing Charlie she’d been off to see the wizard.

 

“Then there’s Mark Pellegrino and Mark Shepherd. Lucifer and Crowley respectively.” Dean’s lip curled at the names. He didn’t want to imagine the faces of those assholes as anything but evil sons of bitches. Misha smirked. “They’re actually really cool in real life, Dean. You should meet them soon.” Dean imagined Misha making the ‘:P’ face most people used when texting at the end of that sentence. He wanted to vomit.

 

“Well let’s just focus on two at a time, okay?" Dean said, standing up and stretching. "This is still a lot for me. I just really want to get through the audit tomorrow."

 

::

 

The three of them agreed that Dean should keep the whole amnesia thing under wraps. It would be a perfect opportunity to practice acting like Jensen in public.

When Dean saw Kevin--Or rather Osric at the restaurant, a little Italian one in downtown Vancouver, he felt his heart beat fast because he hadn't seen the kid in so long. He nearly toppled over when he was met with an armful of Osric. Kevin hadn't been so huggy before so it was a little weird for him. He also looked a whole lot dorkier than he remembered.

 

On his other side, Charlie-now-Felicia was now stuck there and nuzzling into his shoulder.

 

"We were so worried!" Charlie told him. Dean pulled away and gaped because holy shit Charlie was a _babe_. Had she always been so attractive? Dean always saw her as a little sister before but _damn_.

 

Not that he was feeling even remotely sexually attracted to her, but the strange thing was, he felt like if he wasn't attracted to dudes he would totally want to hit on her and that was weird. Dean looked down to find Osric literally climbing up his front.

 

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded. Osric scooted himself up, wrapping his legs around Dean's hips and put his arms around his neck.

 

"Koala-ty time." Dean almost missed it but when he got it he couldn't help but concede that that had to be the best pun Dean had ever heard. The problem was that Osric didn't seem to be climbing down anytime soon.

 

 

"Okay man, you missed me. I get it. Now get off," Jared was sniggering behind him and Dean resisted the urge to elbow him. Meanwhile he had a clingy asian wrinkling his good shirt (Actually, who was he kidding? All of Jensen's shirts were good)and Cas was holding one hand while Charlie was holding the other.

 

 

Felicia and Misha. . . Dean repeated the names ten times in his head.

 

 

After getting a few stares from his blank responses to some of the things they said, Dean admitted to not having much to say because his memory was a little fuzzy from the accident. They nodded and acted like nothing had ever changed, like Jensen was Jensen and he was here and that was all that mattered to them.

 

 

As they entered the restaurant, Dean couldn't help but think how it literally must have looked like a mockery of his previous family and Dean couldn't help but smile a bit.

 

He wondered how they would react if they knew he was actually Dean, or rather Dean's personality, memories and complete essence.

 

Dean had to curb that thought process though, lest Felicia and Osric caught onto his sudden melancholy. This. This was his life now and, though it wasn't what he imagined it would be a week ago, Dean found he shouldn't really complain. They were good people, and if Dean had to surround himself with complete strangers that would be there for the rest of his life, at least they were these dorks.

 

The diner was gorgeous. It looked pretty ritzy, but when Dean took a look at the menus, he realized it wasn't all that bad. The most expensive item on the list was twenty-ninety-nine and it was some sort of duck thing and there was no way Dean was going there. The most Italian Dean's food choice ever got was traditional fettuccine alfredo and he was sure he'd heard somewhere that alfredo wasn't even authentic Italian food but whatever.

 

They ordered, chatted some more and enjoyed each other's company. Felicia and Osric chatted about what they'd got up to over the summer, going to random conventions, charity functions and amassing their growing fanbases. It was strange hearing Osric talk about having a life outside of being a prophet, using Kevin's face. Kevin always wore a kind of 'doomed-but-determined' look about him and Dean felt his heart break just a little because he knew exactly _why_ that was.

 

The Kevin in front of him smiled so much, though. _This_ Asian kid was probably a scholar too, only he managed to go on and actually _do_ something with his talents.

 

Dean felt a firm squeeze on his hand and to his surprise he'd actually forgotten now that Misha was still holding it. That in and of itself shocked him because hadn't he been nervous about the whole PDA thing? Osric and Felicia hadn't seemed to notice.

 

"So are you guys going steady now, or what?" Charlie--Felicia asked with a smirk, indicating the linked hands that were currently hidden under the table-cloth. Dean felt his face start to burn and he looked away.

 

"Who even _says_ that anymore?" Misha said, not confirming or denying it. Dean cleared his throat, looking up.

 

"I lost a bet." Dean said, the lie falling from his mouth effortlessly. Misha's eyes lit up.

 

"You know how terrible he is at gambling." The man said. Osric nodded, as though weighing the explanation.

 

"You know how he _cheats_." Dean spat, glaring at Misha. The actor lifted an amused brow. Dean didn't know if Misha was really a cheater, but he suspected he was. All the signs of a typical cheater were there.

 

"Also, true," Felicia said, grinning. "What was it this time? The outcome of some predictable movie?"

 

"Lemonade stand battle." Misha corrected, not missing a beat. "Jensen sucks at making refreshments." Jared nearly choked on a piece of lettuce from the complimentary salad and Dean fought the urge not to look at Misha like he grew a second head, his ears burning now. Lemonade? _Really?_

 

Both Osric and Felicia seemed placated by the explanation and sat back as the server returned with their food. The server diligently worked around the table until he finally ended at Dean, setting his plate down carefully, refilling his water mid-air. Dean found himself very wet because the server didn't stop pouring. It was a few seconds and Dean bolting out of his chair before the server realized his error, flailing and apologizing. The server pressed his cloth to Dean's chest and started wiping the water off.

 

Dean looked up, green eyes meeting dark brown and he wondered if the waiter was Italian. He had strong, dark features with curly hair. He was actually kinda. . . Dean bit his lip, blushing a bit as the man definitely squeezed his bicep. The waiter sucked in a breath before grinning.

 

"Scusa mi, signore" He said in a deep, rich accent. Dean totally called it! "I was distracted by something beautiful." The man was looking directly into his eyes as he said those words in that seductive tone and Dean felt himself flush darkly. Definitely all the things said about Italians being shameless flirts were _true_. Dean's jaw dropped as he felt something slip into his coat pocket. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

 

Wow. Dean wasn't expecting to be propositioned at a fancy Italian restaurant. . . by a _dude_! Dean couldn't help but smirk a bit at that.

 

"I'll let you know." He raised his eyebrow just a little, enjoying the attention because damn, Dean must be a fine piece of ass if a man like _that_ was anticipating him. He sat back with a smug grin as the waiter left, looking back and smiling as well.

 

"That dude totally was trying to get into your pants." Jared coughed, snickering.

 

"And you looked like you were totally gonna let him!" Felicia quirked. Dean laughed.

 

"Come on guys, really? I'm with Danneel." And Cas, his subconscious reminded him. Dean shifted uncomfortably at the loaded look Misha was sending him. Dean looked back, trying to figure out what was going on because this was possibly the crankiest he'd ever seen Misha look.

 

"So Felicia," Misha started, turning his attention towards the girl. Dean almost got whiplash by how abruptly he plastered on the charm and a winning smile. "Were you excited when The CW called to tell you you had another spot in the next season?" Misha's voice was all kinds of airy and cheerful. His hand, however, told the real story as he dropped Dean's grip. Dean almost felt disappointed and he wondered what the hell was going on before he felt the hand place itself on his thigh.

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, flushing as the hand started moving. . . _trailing._. .

 

"I was bouncing all over the house! Ask Nathan. I started packing that day, even though my flight wouldn't be for another month!" Dean coughed, lowering his face as the hand moved upwards, squeezing the soft meat of his inner thigh when suddenly those fingers started trailing even further upwards, licking the seam of his pants right at the groin.

 

Dean jumped and shifted in his seat, smiling at Felicia tightly, trying to back away from that evil hand. Felicia looked at him, face softening a bit.

 

"How's your recovery been going, sweetheart?" She said, leaning towards his direction in rapt attention. Dean inwardly grimaced, hoping she wouldn't see the growing blush on his face. Misha was rubbing him now, slowly and tantalizingly and fuck if it wasn't turning him on. . .

 

"D-Decently." He stammered, looking away from her eyes because for some reason he felt if he made eye-contact with her she would just _know_ that Misha was currently rubbing his cock through his pants. "Starting to feel like me again." Lie. Lie. Lie.

 

"When I heard you were going to pick up acting again so soon, I was worried." Dean started to laugh but ended up choking a bit as Misha started palming the head of his cock. God that felt good.  He glared at Misha before looking right back at Felicia, steeling his expression into one that might pass as normal. "You always work yourself too hard."

 

"It was just a bump on the head, sheesh. You guys all act like I was dying."

 

"Technically you almost did." Osric clarified. Dean was so hard in his pants now. Misha kept rubbing, squeezing and his pants were getting even tighter than they alread were. He was vaguely aware of his hips rolling into that hand. Damn it, just what the hell did Misha think he was doing? And why? Jesus. . .

 

The adrenaline was taking over now, Dean was getting hot and he just knew someone was going to say something. He didn't know just what he looked like when he was horny but he knew Cas thought it was very obvious. He fiddled with his napkin, trying not to give any physical clues--Moans, gasps, etc. He realized there was no getting out of this situation and if he were perfectly one-hundred percent honest, he really didn't want to.

 

The thought of possibly getting a hand job while everyone was sitting at the same table it was happening under was possibly the sexiest thing he'd ever imagined doing. His hips rolled firmly into Misha's hand and he couldn't help but look over, watching that perfectly calm and collected face. Just by looking, nobody would have the faintest idea that Misha was currently _molesting_ Dean under the table cloth.

 

Dean, however, felt exposed. He bit his lip as a well-placed squeeze threatened to rip a sound from his throat because it literally couldn't happen now that everyone was tucking into their meals. It was basically silent, save the quiet murmur of the other patrons in the restaurant, so even the quietest sound would be noticeable.

 

As good as it felt, Dean decided he couldn't take any risks. He was by no means quiet when it came to this kind of thing even as Jensen Ackles apparently and he wasn't ashamed to admit that. Instead of taking his hand away when Dean pushed at it, Misha simply grabbed hold of his zipper. Dean's eyes widened in his direction and Misha sat there, looking like he was doing nothing more than contentedly eating his sacchettini. Dean narrowed his eyes, feeling each tooth of his zipper loosen slowly and quietly. Dean went to push him away again but stopped when he realized what would happen if Misha didn't let go. He didn't need his table mates hearing his zipper go down. . . He ground his teeth in frustration, determined to blank his mind.

 

Dean picked up his fork and speared a few noodles, silently relieved as there was more and more room in his pants now. As he shoved the noodles into his mouth, Misha's hand dove into his boxers and gripped his sensitive prick, making Dean moan loud and proud. _Goddamn_ it! Jared gave him a funny look and Dean flushed in embarrassment. Jesus _Christ_ Misha.

 

"Someone's getting a little too happy with his fettuccine." Jared noted in amusement.

 

Dean's smile was so forced it was a wonder if nobody noticed. "Y-Yeah, well, It's probably the best fettuccine I've ever had." He stammered, tucking into his noodles heartily as Misha started his rhythm, stroking languidly, rubbing his thumb against the slit on every up-stroke. Dean did his best to stay quiet, but for some reason Misha seemed to be really _really_ good at hand jobs. He was doing little twisty things that left Dean breathless. At this rate, he was going to come and that was a _whole_ 'nother issue.

 

H-How would he come, anyways? All these napkins were fabric and seemed to scream 'I'm going to be picked up and _washed_ later, suck-ass!' at him and his throat went dry at the thought of Mr. Tall, Hot and Italian picking up his napkin only to find it stained with cum.

 

If he didn't totally know better, he'd think Misha was trying to stake his claim on Dean. He shivered at the thought, in either delight or horror, he couldn't tell.

 

Misha was still avoiding his gaze and Dean thought it was unfair because he obviously knew exactly what he was doing to Dean. He knew but he didn't care. What if Dean exposed them? What if he had zero self-control and ended up notifying everyone at the table of the lewd activity taking place just below?

 

He was getting close now and Dean really didn't know what to do at this point. He knew that in theory it would be _such_ a turn-on to get a hand job under the table, but at the same time his body was flooding with embarrassment and he didn't know why. He just knew that when he came it was going to be obvious and if Misha didn't stop dipping the tip of his finger into his slit it was going to happen _really_ soon.

 

"Are you okay, Jensen? Your face is all red." Osric asked, concerned.

 

"I-It's just h-hot in here, isn't it?" Dean said, feebly, his brain turning to goo.

 

"Not really, dude" Felicia said, pulling her jacket tighter over her shoulders. "I'm gonna start nipping out at this rate." Her words may as well have been French at this point, because that's how much he understood her. Dean couldn't help but thrust into Misha's hand. His hands gripped the table as he was pushed closer and closer to the edge. Misha's grip was firm and perfect, rubbing his dick from balls to tip just how he liked it. His lids fell as his eyes rolled back, mouth falling open as he panted lightly. He couldn't help it. He was gonna come soon. It felt so good. _God, yeah. . . Just like that Misha. . ._

 

And then the fucker _stopped_. Dean made a noise in frustration, glaring at the man sitting next to him. Misha was completely straight-faced as he cut a piece of his steak, his fork holding the hand that was _supposed_ to be rubbing his dick. He popped the piece of meat in his mouth and sighed contentedly. Dean grit his teeth, breathing through his nose as his orgasm receded reluctantly. That fucker _would_ bring him to the edge and then stop, too.

 

He wondered if this meant that Misha was done. Dean bit his lip, still painfully aroused and revisiting his decision to stop. His cock was already out, hard and throbbing and he was just so hungry for it. He wanted to be touched and goddamn it if Misha wasn't going to do it, then Dean might as well just finish the job.

 

He reached his hand down and wrapped it tightly around his erection, only to have it slapped away. He jumped and looked at Misha who had just started up a conversation with Jared about movies or something (Dean couldn't really understand English at this point).

 

"I thought you liked your noodles, Jen." Dean's darkened gaze flicked up to Kevin--Wait Osric. . . What was he saying? Noodles? The man raised a brow, looking pointedly at his plate and Dean looked down, comprehension flooding him and yes. He was at dinner. He was hard, uncomfortably aroused while eating dinner with people that were supposedly his friends— _In public_. Dean swallowed as his cock throbbed under the table, horribly neglected and Misha was such a fucking _tease_.

 

"I. . .I think I'm feeling a bit sick." Char--Felicia looked at him worriedly.

 

"Oh, are you okay? Should we go?" Dean shook his head, pressing closer to the table so he could thrust up and try to get some friction. That was a stupid thing to say. Way to bring attention to yourself, Dean. He would never boast of his intellect while sporting a raging boner.

 

"Y-Yeah. . . I-I mean no. . . No, I just need some water." Dean tried to pour more water in his glass but ended up spilling it all over when Misha's hand gripped him again. He cried out, not even noticing how the table cloth was now soaked, because Misha was rubbing him so fast, so hard and it felt so good. He wanted to come so badly.

 

 _Yes. . . Yes just like that._ Dean looked over at Misha, trying to convey with his eyes how the man was making him feel. 

 

Dean didn't notice the weird stares he was receiving as the water poured over his fingers, didn't notice the billion napkins that came to wipe up the mess because it felt _so good_. He was coming and he moaned, his head sinking to the table as he shuddered out his orgasm. Misha stroked him firmly, letting Dean ride it out. Just as he vaguely heard the scraping of chairs against the floor, Misha was tucking him away, zipping up his jeans. He gave his groin a little 'pat' and instantly he was acting.

 

"Jensen?" He heard Misha say, his voice sounding very concerned. "Are you okay?" Dean felt someone grab his shoulders, body heat hunching over him.

 

"He really must be sick. . ." Jared said.

 

"Is it because of the accident?"

 

"I don't think so." Jared's voice was suspicious as he said it and Dean felt himself blush. Nobody knew what just transpired beneath this table. Dean knew that the underside of the table was painted with cum and he was a little self-conscious about that but really. . . Was it his fault? 

 

"Come on." Misha said, Dean felt him wiping around his legs. "I'll get the check and we can get out of here. You guys just enjoy your dinner, okay? I'll take him back to Jared's." Dean swallowed, quickly turning around when Misha helped him up. His legs were like jelly and he was tingly all over. But at least he was coming back to his senses. . .

 

Chair. . . Very trippable. Make note to avoid chairs in the near future.

 

Misha paid the bill and they left, Misha steering Dean out the door because Dean's sex-hazed mind couldn't be bothered. It wasn't until he was in the car when he started feeling uncomfortably sticky in his pants and he turned to Misha, glare on his face.

 

"Really? What the hell is wrong with you? Osric was sitting literally half a foot away and you just had to. . . Christ, Misha who just does that outside of movies?!" Misha grinned.

 

"I'm a sucker for cliches. What more do you want from me?" Dean rolled his eyes and looked out the window as they departed into the night. The roads were pretty quiet for downtown Vancouver, then again it was a Tuesday. Everybody was probably at home watching Supernatural or something. Misha said that they're show aired on Tuesdays.

 

They were off-season right now, though. Did Supernatural still air on Tuesdays even when on hiatus?

 

"How was it?" Misha asked and it was only a couple seconds before Dean was brought back to the present.

 

"I-It was inappropriate." Dean said, looking away.

 

"Isn't Dean supposed to be more adventurous? I thought you'd appreciate it. Nobody knew what we were doing."

 

"What _you_ were doing." Dean snapped. "Regardless, you still managed to embarrass the crap out of me."

 

"They think you're ill. You got sympathy!"

 

"Not the point, smartass. I don't appreciate being forced to come in front of 3 other people, thanks."

 

"You liked it, though."

 

"I-I'm a healthy male, Misha. I know a good hand job when I feel it."

 

"Well then it was a job well done." Misha smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. Dean frowned, feeling a bit weird about the whole thing.

 

"Why _did_ you do it?" Dean wondered aloud. "A-Are you really into dudes?" Misha looked thoughtful.

 

"Typically not, but I'm finding it hard to make my hands behave when you let me touch you however I want."

 

"So you're just a pervert." Dean said, frowning in disapproval.

 

"Pretty much." Dean scoffed.

 

"How would Jensen feel knowing you're taking advantage of his condition like this?" Misha's face hardened and his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

 

"He's just as much of a perv as me, he's just too self-conscious to show it off in its entirety.”

 

Dean crossed his arms. "Well I'm just telling you right now, I don't know what universe you're from, jerking off your guy friend in public isn't something straight men do."

 

"You could have stopped me."

 

"You wouldn't stop!"

 

"You know you could have made me if you really wanted to." Misha smirked. "Admit it, you found it invigorating and dangerously sexy, didn't you?" Dean swallowed, blushing, not saying a damn thing. "Besides it was good practice for physical intimacy in public, wasn't it?"

 

"I'm pretty sure that means that everyone is supposed to be able to _see_ it, jackass."

 

"You wanted them to see it? Wow we really _are_ making progress." Dean pulled his best Sam bitchface before looking out the window again.

 

"At least I don't have to sit there with sticky pants." He conceded. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

 

"Anytime, lover." Dean wasn't even embarrassed by the nickname. They drove for a while before Misha spoke again. "You should call Danneel." Well _that_ came way out of left-field. Dean glared at him, his voice derisive as he spoke.

 

"And tell her what, exactly? Sorry baby, I can't fuck you because I suddenly like dick?" Misha nodded in acknowledgement.

 

"That would be a start, yes." Dean scoffed.

 

"D'ya really think that Jensen would appreciate Dean Winchester uprooting his entire life?"

 

"I don't know," Misha said. "Do you really think that whenever Jensen snaps out of this, he's going to be magically straight again?" Was that _really_ what Dean had been hoping for? How many times did he hope for that very same thing himself? It never worked then, so why would it now?

 

Either way he still ended up with Cas.

 

He sighed, defeated. He didn't want to admit it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that there really was no hope for this guy. He must have been one hell of an actor to play off being straight for six freaking _years._

 

"No."

 

When they stopped at a gas station to fill up, Dean went inside to do some browsing. He grabbed a few random things, a pizza for him and Misha to share (they didn't do much eating at dinner, after all), a twelve pack of beer, and some ice cream (Jared finished off the last of it). He stopped at the magazine rack, noticing a few nudy mags there. He scanned for the latest issue of Busty Asian Beauties, only to be disappointed. He shrugged it off as hiatus and found a series called "Hustler" that was decidedly _not_ Asian OR particularly busty, but it would serve its purpose.

 

Another magazine caught his eye—one that had absolutely no tits at all and he grabbed it, looking around to make sure nobody saw. He put them in the privacy bags they had been in before he pulled them out to see and made his way to the checkout.

 

It was weird paying with money that was _actually_ his. It didn't seem like it, since his name read Jensen R. Ackles on the card, but it was his, nonetheless. He accidentally hit 'debit' on the reader and he was brought to a pin-screen. To his complete and utter surprise, Dean didn't even hesitate before entering his pin into the keypad.

 

Four-one-eight-zero. It worked. Dean blinked as his order was rung up by the cashier. He stood gaping at his card and the lady had to wave to get him to take his receipt. He left in a hurry, adrenaline spiking just a bit as he realized again just how much he was actually Jensen fucking Ackles. It was crazy.

 

He hoped that more magical muscle memory would take over during his audit tomorrow.


End file.
